The Quinn at College Series
by Alchemist17
Summary: Visit Quinn in her adventures in college
1. The Calculus of College

The Calculus of College ****

The Calculus of College

AQuinnFan Fiction by the Alchemist

Episode #101

_DISCLAIMER – Quinn and the cast of Daria are wholly owned by MTV/Viacom. Non-Daria characters are wholly developed and created by the author, and remain the property of said author. This work may be copied, posted, or re-transmitted for any non-commercial use provided that it is not altered in any fashion without the explicit consent of the author._

Feedback and comments may be sent to alchemist17@space.com

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Quinn looks out over the quad for a moment, a loose magenta t-shirt hanging gently over her black jeans. Running her fingers through her now short hair, she sighs to herself as she walks onto the quad for her first day of classes at Wharton University. Her first week had been a bit hectic, moving into her new room (a single, thank God), arranging a schedule, and trying to track down professors to get permission to add their class to her official roster, despite the university's best efforts. But now, her room livable and a schedule approved, signed, and duly filed in triplicate with the registrar, only one task remained: locating the classes based on the acronyms in the course and room roster. Oh, and surviving the first day of classes would be nice as well.

Walking across the quad, the eclectic mix of buildings on the campus seemed to crowd her narrow path. The University policy that buildings must be representative of the time they were constructed in sounded great on paper, but led to a very interesting feel for the campus. Where else could you find a combination of colonial architecture, castle-like monoliths of brick and stone, and the infamous Randall Hall, designed in the industrial nightmare style so popular in the 70's? Somehow, this would be her home for the next four years. It would take some getting used to.

Shaking her head, Quinn remembers the task at hand. _Class_. Dropping her bag to the soft grass, she removes a small slip of paper, studying it carefully before proceeding.

"White Hall? That would be … there."

Across the quad, an old colonial building stands behind a quartet of tall oak trees. Behind the leafy canopy of the center two trees, 'hite Ha' is visible in large metal letters. Zipping her bag and hefting it over her shoulder again, she heads off towards the building, entering through the first entrance.

#

Inside the building, a single long corridor runs the length of the building, ending in a stairwell. Along either side of the corridor, classrooms branch off at irregular intervals, with room numbers mounted on large plastic signs just outside the door.

"Ok, Introduction to Micro-Economics 101, White Hall 143. Hmm. 130, 132, 134 … "

After a moment of searching, it becomes clear that there are no odd numbered rooms anywhere in sight. Puzzled, she notices a sole open door at the far end of the corridor. Curiously, Quinn moves to the end of the corridor, peering cautiously into the office. Satisfied, she walks through the door, revealing a middle-aged woman sitting behind a large metal desk, piles of papers neatly stacked on every flat surface. Looking up from her work, the woman studies the new arrival with penetrating but friendly eyes.

"Let me guess, a freshman?"

"Um, yeah."

"I'm Rosalyn, the department secretary. Can I help you?"

"Um, I'm looking for room 143? I have a class there…"

Smiling, the woman gestures at the far wall of the office. "Go back down the hall, walk outside, and go in the other door. Room 143 is the second door on the left."

"Outside?"

"Yep. This building is divided into two parts, which don't connect to each other inside."

"Why would they do that?"

The woman sports a small smile before responding. "Our best guess is that the architect was drunk. Or just didn't like the university."

"And no one thought to check the plans before they built it?" Quinn asked, genuine surprise in her voice. "Whose crazy idea was THAT?"

"Hey now, don't be criticizing the University," Rosalyn warned, wagging a finger at Quinn.

"Um, why not?"

Chuckling lightly to herself, the woman turns back to her computer, typing as she speaks. "Oh, no reason. They just like it if we say stuff like that."

"Oh," Quinn said, checking her watch. "Well … I really have to be going. I wouldn't want to miss my first class."

"Watch what you say. You might change your mind."

Shrugging, Quinn heads out of the office, turning down the corridor towards the door.

#

Inside a lecture hall, a tall, thirty-something professor is perched by the door, sitting back against the wall in front of a sparse classroom. Glancing in disappointment at the scant handful of students in a classroom designed for over one hundred fifty students, the professor turns quickly as the door swings open.

"Hey, hang on a second Miss …"

Shifting slightly to observe the professor, she replies to his implied question. "Morgendorffer."

"Miss Morgendorffer. Are you in this class, or just looking?"

"In the class. You signed my add/drop slip last week."

"Oh. Well then, you'll need a course packet. Here."

Taking the packet, she takes a seat in the middle of the classroom, leafing slowly through the stapled sheets. As she scans the syllabus, the seats around her slowly fill with groggy students, an aroma of coffee hanging heavily in the air. Just before reaching the end of the packet, the professor addresses the class in a loud, confident voice.

"Ok class, I suppose I should welcome you to our fair university and all that, but lets get right down to business. My name is Professor Warre, and I am taking over this class from Professor Johnson. I know that many of you see this class as nothing more than an easy grade, but I can assure you that this year will be different than previous years."

The professor pauses briefly as a groan circulates through the class.

"Great. I wonder if there's any room in poly-sci?" mumbles a student from the back of the room, eliciting a disappointed glare from the professor. Raising his voice slightly in a commanding tone, the professor continues, quickly regaining control of the lecture hall.

"I can assure you that by the end of this class, you will know the basics of economics. Or you will fail. Three tests, twenty percent each, one final, thirty percent, and weekly homework to make up the remaining ten percent. Now that we've gotten through the basics, we may as well get started with the class."

"Well, he sure doesn't waste any time, does he?" a girl whispers from the row behind Quinn.

"What?"

"Usually they give a day for people to settle in. So much for gentle introductions."

"Ms. Morgendorffer!"

Turning in shock back to the front of the room, Professor Warre is staring directly at her, as is much of the class. Behind her, a lanky girl, dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a dark black t-shirt with 'Carpe Noctem' written on the front, sits back sheepishly, looking thankful but guilty for bringing the professor's wrath on her classmate.

"In my classroom young lady, we do not talk during lecture. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Um, no?"

"Good. But while I have your attention, perhaps you could explain to us the concept of supply and demand?"

Leaning forward, the black-shirted girl surreptitiously whispers, "I'm sorry," softly into Quinn's ear.

"Well Miss Morgendorffer, we're waiting for you to enlighten us."

Facing the professor, she stares at him with determination, locking eyes for a brief but significant moment before responding. "Supply and demand is a simple concept that economists like to pretend is complex and insightful. Basically, it means that if the demand for a commodity, say oranges, exceeds the available supply, then prices will rise until demand for oranges equals the available supply."

"That's a reasonably good, if simplistic view of the matter…"

"Of course, this ignores the effects of limited competition, product substitution, and inelastic demand on an economy, which would merely interfere with the understanding of the fundamentals, don't you agree?"

The professor cocks his head, recognizing that there is more to this girl than meets the eye. "Um, yes, that's, uh, very good Ms. Morgendorffer," he replies, studying her carefully before scanning the class once again. "Moving along…"

As the lecture winds to a close, the class as a whole have their heads down, furiously taking notes in their notebooks as the professor concludes his presentation.

"And that's the basic foundation upon which modern economics is based. Now, before the next class, I expect you to read chapters 1-3 in your textbook."

From the front of the classroom, a male student looks up in surprise. "Professor Warre? You want us to read three chapters by Wednesday?"

"The first chapter is only ten pages. It's a very simple overview of the entire course."

"You want us to read two chapters by Wednesday?"

"Yes. I do."

"Oh."

As the class begins to stand and pack their bags, the black-shirted girl leans forward, getting Quinn's attention. "Hi, I'm Amber," she offered in a friendly tone. "Not bad back there. How'd you know all that stuff?"

"Oh, that? Something I picked up in High School."

Amber stares at Quinn for a moment before continuing. "Are you always so confrontational with teach … professors?"

Shaking her head, she turns to Amber with a smirk. "Well, not really. But if you establish yourself as a 'smart' one early on, you'll earn a lot more leeway later."

"And the smart ones make the teacher look like a fool?"

"No, no. You're not showing them up, you're challenging them. Show's you're awake…"

"Semantics. Say, I didn't catch your name…"

"Morgendorffer." Looking up in surprise, she shakes her head briefly in amusement. "Sorry about that, I've been in a few too many university offices this past week. My name is Quinn. Quinn Morgendorffer."

Looking at Quinn, Amber studies her for a second, her blue eyes trying to look straight through Quinn. "You're a freshman, right?"

"Um, yes. Yes, I am," Quinn replied, not fully understanding the significance. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope. We're all freshman at some point," Amber reassured her. "At least, those of us who get that far. It's just rare to see a freshman with your confidence."

"You know what? You still haven't." _Now if Daria was here_, Quinn thought …

"A rose by any other name …" Amber said, rubbing her eyes as the two began to head out of the classroom. "Hey, if you want, I know this great coffee shop nearby. I don't know about you, but these 8:30 classes are just too damn early for me."

Coffee. Quinn could think of a thousand reasons to say no. Stains. Complexion problems. Just two of a number of reasons she'd used in the past. But now, they all seemed … distant, unimportant. The answer surprises Quinn, even as she responds. "Sure. Coffee sounds great."

#

Opening the large glass doors, Quinn and Amber enter a quaint coffee shop, making their way into the short but rapidly growing line. Quinn looks up behind the counter at the vast array of coffee flavors as Amber leans against the railing. Quinn tries to decide what she wants, staring up at the large printed menu. English Toffee Cream, French Vanilla, Rain Forest Nut, Hazelnut, or Irish Cream? _So many different flavors to choose from_, Quinn thought, turning to Amber. "What do you recommend?"

"Personally, I love the hazelnut. Good stuff." Closing her eyes for a moment, she smiles in remembrance. "After nine at night, they'll make it triple strength if you ask nicely."

Shuddering slightly at the thought, Quinn shoots a strange look at Amber. Noticing her reaction, Amber smiles, looking back at Quinn. "So I take it you're not a big coffee fan?"

Uh-oh, Quinn thought, _think fast_. "Um, it's not that," Quinn said, trying to buy time for her mouth and mind to come to agreement. "It's just that, um, I never really needed to stay up that late in High School." _At least not for academic reasons_, she mused.

"Oh, so you're one of those genius types who don't have to work at anything, huh?"

Quinn shifts slightly, angry with Amber for making fun of her, when she realizes that Amber doesn't know anything about her, that she was actually serious in her question. Caught up in the irony of the situation, Quinn begins to laugh. Confused, Amber looks to Quinn, cocking her head in a curious stare.

"Was it something I said?"

"You might say that," Quinn managed as she gradually stopped laughing. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you over coffee. It's kind of a long story."

"So whadda you two want?" barked the apron clad employee working the counter.

"I'll have the hazelnut, cream, no sugar." .

"And for you?" he asks Quinn.

Sniffing the air for a second, Quinn gives a barely perceptible shrug. "Hazelnut sounds fine."

"You want anything in that?"

"Um, no?"

"Black it is then."

The employee turns, removing two paper cups from a stack before walking back to the wall of coffee machines behind him. As he pours the coffee, Amber looks to Quinn in surprise. "Black?"

"My jeans?" Quinn asked, having missed the employee's comment.

"Your coffee." Looking at Quinn suspiciously, Amber gently questions her. "Have you ever had coffee before?"

"Um, once or twice, yes."

Before Amber can continue, the employee returns with two large paper cups full of coffee. "There you go, one with milk, one black, hazelnut. Pay up at the register," the employee says unenthusiastically, directing his attention at the next customer. "Next!"

As the man behind the two places his order, Amber and Quinn make their way to the cash register. Searching her jeans to find money, Quinn nods her head towards the counter. "Not terribly friendly here, are they?"

"Well, if you had to get in at 4AM for the early shift, you probably wouldn't be in a great mood either."

Handing a five dollar bill across the counter to the cashier, Quinn considers Amber's statement. "I guess that makes sense… But if they don't like it, why do they work here?"

"Money. Loans don't cover everything."

"Loans?" Quinn asked, receiving her change from the cashier.

"Sure. You can't spell Wharton University without IOU," Amber replied, heading off towards an open table.

As Quinn and Amber walk towards the table, Quinn lags slightly behind Amber, her head cocked slightly. _She seems friendly_, Quinn observes silently. _And with a touch of Daria's sense of humor too. Oh well, nobody's perfect._

Taking a seat in a booth against the wall of the shop, Quinn removes the plastic lid on her coffee and takes a tentative sip. After an initial look of pleasant surprise, Quinn's face flinches slightly as the bitter aftertaste kicks in. Waiting a second, Quinn takes another sip, her reaction almost completely suppressed.

"You're right, this is pretty good." Placing the coffee down on the table, Quinn looks across at Amber. "I take it you're not a freshman?"

Looking up at Quinn, Amber smiles briefly. "That's right, I'm a big bad sophomore."

"Oh."

"Is that a problem?"

Shouldn't I be asking you that, Quinn wondered? "Um, it's just that in high school, we didn't really, uh, interact much? With the other classes, that is."

Laughing slightly, Amber shakes her head. "I'd forgotten just how naïve you all are coming out of high school.

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, relax. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that it's not all that important here. Here, you'll get to know the people in your classes, and maybe in your major. Do you have a major yet?"

"Um, no." _A major_, Quinn wondered? _I'm just worried about surviving for now. Besides, how am I supposed to know what I want to do?_ "Do you?"

"As of yesterday? Yes. I'm officially a Computer Engineering major."

"Computer engineering?"

"Yep. Now you know my deep dark secret."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you're a sophomore."

Amber laughs in surprise as she puts down her coffee. Being careful not to knock over the cup, she reaches up and gently scratches the side of her nose. Satisfied, she turns her head to Quinn with a smile. "You're pretty funny for a freshman."

"Um, thanks," Quinn replied uncertainly. Continuing with trepidation, she asked "If you don't mind me asking, why are you in econ 101? Isn't that, like, a freshman class or something?"

"Not for engineers. We get stuck with calculus, physics, and chemistry our first year."

"Ick!"

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. So you're interested in economics?"

Taking a sip of her coffee, Quinn considers her answer for a moment before responding. "Well, sort of, I guess. Honestly, my advisor recommended the course to me, said it fit a lot of, um, destitution? No, distribution requirements."

"You were right the first time," Amber replied, holding back a laugh. "You seemed to know what was going on pretty well though. You must have had a better high school that I did …"

"Lawndale? Not really. I had an older sister," Quinn said as a pensive look crossed her face. "She's a lot smarter than I was. Am. Whatever."

"Don't sell yourself short Quinn. I've seen a few people stand up to professors like that before, but most of them are, um, arrogant pricks. You seem almost normal."

Normal. Had someone called Quinn normal in high school, she would have been livid. She was so much more than normal. She was pretty, popular, important. She was somebody. Funny then, how normal seemed like such a compliment now. Taking another sip of coffee, she slowly stepped out of her moment of introspection. "Thanks, I think."

"Don't mention it," Amber said flippantly, checking her watch. "I've gotta get going now. I have to stop by the Engineering Registrar before my next class to make sure that they haven't mangled my schedule too badly. Say, would you want to join my friends and I for dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Or what passes for it at the dining hall."

"Um, sure. What time?"

"Oh, we'll meet you outside, and we always leave the dorm at 6:22 for dinner."

"6:22?"

"I have strange friends. See you then!"

As Amber stands up, heading out of the building, Quinn watches in silence. Turning back to the table, Quinn stares at her coffee, deep in thought. _Nice. She seems so nice_, Quinn thought. _Why couldn't she have been at Lawndale? Oh well. I suppose I should track down my next class while I have the time._

"Now where would BH 203 be?" Standing up, Quinn slings her backpack over her shoulder, remembering at the last moment to grab her coffee as well. Taking a sip as she heads for the door, Quinn smiles. "You know, a girl could get to like this whole coffee thing…"

#

Across the campus stood a large, imposing building, a masterpiece of brick and mortar. Known to the students as Balder Hall, it was the home of the chemistry department, and the home of many a campus legend. It was rumored that the roof was designed to remain in a single piece in an explosion, although university policy took a dim view of students attempting empirical validation of this legend.

It was all very interesting, Quinn thought to herself as she entered the large front door into the cavernous corridors. _Now if there were only some easy way to locate her classroom._ If she didn't know better, she would have thought that it was a rite of passage or something. Little did she know that the university thought almost the exact same thing. Thankfully, the building was considerably simpler than White Hall. Heading up the staircase, pausing now and then to gaze at the ornate marble carvings and gold inlay, she was pleased to discover room 203 immediately adjacent to the staircase.

"Now that wasn't too bad," Quinn muttered aloud. "I think I'm getting the hang of this whole college thing."

Opening the classroom door, Quinn hesitates momentarily to look over the classroom. It was somewhat smaller than her economics class, seating about seventy students in hard wooden chairs with swing-up desks just to small to be of any use at all. Heading into the classroom, Quinn is about to take a seat when she recognizes a student towards the front of the lecture hall. Curious, she walks over and sits down next to him.

"Justin?" Quinn asked in surprise. _What was he doing here_, she wondered? Justin was one of Quinn's neighbors in her dorm, an average, blond young man with a penchant for chemistry and physics. As he turns to face her, Quinn can't help but smile. He has a certain … innocence to his expression, a natural ability to look completely naïve, even when it was clearly not the case. _It was for the better that he doesn't realize this_, she thought. _If he ever did, he could be dangerous._

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" Justin asked, looking up from his notebook.

"Um, I thought that my chemistry lecture was in here. Is there a problem?"

"Well, maybe. My chemistry lecture is meeting in here today."

"Chem 215?"

"That's right. Chem 215. Honors general inorganic chemistry."

Taking in Justin's statement, Quinn stares at him for a long moment, remembering her first week. _Honors chemistry? But the lady said that this was the only one open. She didn't mention …_

"Um, Quinn? Are you OK?" Justin interjected.

"Yeah, I'm fine Justin. They just didn't tell me that it was an honors class. Great."

"Is that a problem?"

Problem is an understatement, Quinn thought. "Well, unlike you, I'm not all that good at chemistry. It's just, um, not my thing."

Watching her expression of concern, Justin smiles at her sweetly. "Just give it a try, for a few weeks at least. It can't be all that bad, can it? Besides, if you have any trouble, just ask me. I'd be more than happy to give you a hand."

"Uh, thanks," Quinn said uncertainly. With most guys, Quinn would have no doubt that it was pure hormones speaking, a simple trade, chemistry for a date. But with Justin, Quinn could never be certain. Justin was a healthy male, but he was also genuinely nice, and in the week she had known him, he had gone out of his way to help people a number of times, for little more than a smile and a 'thank you'. It made him very hard to figure out at times, a trait that Quinn alternately found annoying and attractive.

"No problem. At least this way, you get to enjoy my company during lectures."

"Well THAT certainly convinced me to stay."

"Hey now, let's not get personal."

Smiling, Quinn looks up, straight at Justin. "What, you're saying there's no chemistry between us?"

Grimacing slightly, Justin gives Quinn a look of faux-disgust. "That's just horrible Quinn."

"Thanks." Reaching down to retrieve her notebook, Quinn couldn't help but give a small chuckle. _Was she flirting with him? Hell, she wasn't even sure. But he did have a point that lecture would be much more bearable with a familiar face nearby. And she did have three weeks to switch classes at will, didn't she?_ As the professor began to introduce himself and the class to the students, Quinn looks down at him, considering her options. _I may as well give it a try, _ she mused_. What do I have to lose?_

#

Well, I survived the first two classes, Quinn thought, walking into the bookstore. Dropping her bag into a cubby against the wall, she retains only a small slip of paper containing her class roster. Passing through the large anti-theft detectors mounted at the entrance/exit, she immediately stops at a diagram of the bookstore layout, a large diagram color-coded by subject.

"If I were a chemistry book, where would I be hiding?" Quinn asked, looking down at the legend. Turning back to the map, she quickly locates the blue section on the diagram. "Ah, chemistry! Got you!" she exclaimed.

Spending a moment to orient the map with the bookstore around her, Quinn heads into the bustling crowd. After a fighting through the overcrowded aisles, Quinn slides into the chemistry section, taking a moment to breathe before beginning the search for her textbook. Scanning the course numbers listed on the shelf, Quinn locates her textbook relatively easily. Picking it up, she briefly scans through the book, reassuring herself that it is the right one. Satisfied, she closes the book, noticing the price tag on the back cover.

"Ninety dollars? For a book?" Quinn exclaimed without thinking. "That's ridiculous!"

Quinn stopped suddenly, mortified that someone had caught her talking to herself. But as she looked around, she realizes that none of the students appear to have even give it a second thought. With a slight scowl, she picks up the book. "It's not like I get a choice here, I suppose," she sighed. Clutching the book to her chest, she pushes her way back into the crowd.

Maybe I should have picked a less crowded time, Quinn pondered as she fights against the surging crowd of students. _Lunch might have been better. I can't imagine it could be worse, in any case._ Of course, back in high school, she could have recruited an entire honor guard to clear the way for her. Such was life. Taking advantage of a brief opening in the crowd, Quinn ducks through, pushing her way into the economics section.

"Now which of these books do I need?" Quinn asked herself.

"Oh, that's quite easy miss," a store employee responded, surprising Quinn. "On the bottom of each shelf is the listing of both the required and recommended books for each class."

Turning, Quinn cocks her head at the employee. "Oh, I didn't notice that. Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, eying the crowd nervously.

"Busy day?"

"Actually, yesterday was worse."

"Worse than this?" Quinn asked, staring out at the crowd.

"Yep."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it pays the bills. And as long as I can avoid the manager, I won't get stuck at the checkout."

"Excuse me? Sir? Can you help me?" another student asked, confused. "I can't seem to find my textbook, and the sign said it was somewhere over here…"

Sighing, the employee turns to the student briefly. "Sure, I'll be there in a second." Turning back to Quinn, he looks at her in silent frustration. "Well, duty calls," he observed, gesturing at the crowd. "Good luck out there."

"Thanks." Watching as he walked away, Quinn turns slowly back to the books, searching until she had located the two books required for her economics class. Piling them on top of her chemistry text, she lifts the three books, genuinely surprised at their weight. _Should have gotten a basket_, she thought as she forced her way back into the crowd towards the long checkout line. Enduring a moment of silent frustration, she takes her place in the long checkout line.

#

Returning from the bookstore, Quinn opens the door, standing in the doorway as a silhouette against the bright hallway lighting. _Two hours in line_, she thought flipping on a light switch and driving the shadows to the corners of her room. With a hint of exhaustion, she drops her backpack on her bed, sitting down momentarily. Leaning over, she sets the bulging plastic bag of textbooks on the floor next to her bed, rubbing her tender wrist gently.

Kicking off her shoes, Quinn looks slowly over her room, her home for the next year. Her desk, standard university issue, doing an admirable job of holding up the laptop her parents had given her for graduation. "For academic use only," Jake had insisted, before Helen managed to divert his attention. Thankfully, he had missed Daria's gift, The Sims, "For non-academic use only". Family could be so strange at times. Or all the time, in her case.

Standing up slowly, Quinn walks over to the window next to the desk, pulling the curtains open to look over the dining hall immediately behind her dorm. "What a scenic view," Quinn said to herself, as she watches students entering for dinner. After opening the window slightly to let some air into her room, Quinn turns away from the window, heading towards the closet next to her door. Opening the closet, Quinn stares in, a wistful expression on her face.

Reaching into the open closet, she is interrupted by a knock at the door. Closing the closet, Quinn turns, opening the door to reveal a blonde girl, standing an inch or two shorter than Quinn. Smiling, Quinn leans against the wall as the girl enters.

"Hey Marisa!" Quinn exclaimed, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Did your first day of classes go well?"

"Oh, not bad," Marisa replied in a friendly tone. "I just looked for the trail of clueless-looking students, and followed them. It worked pretty well." Looking at Quinn's bed curiously, she points at the bag still sitting on the floor. "Shopping at the bookstore?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars worth of textbooks," Quinn replied fatalistically. "And that's only two of my classes."

"Really?" Marisa replied, astonished at the figure.

"Well, that's what they charged me."

"Oh. You know, I better call my mom tonight. I don't know if I have that much money left."

"Um, they take credit cards," Quinn ad-libbed. Thankfully, Marisa didn't seem particularly worried about her financial status, which suited Quinn fine. Quinn had no problem with it per se, but after years of manipulating Helen and Jake, and her time with the fashion club, she never really worried about money. One consequence was that she often forgot that her friends' parents out here might not be as well off as the average Lawndale high crowd.

"That only puts it off for a month," Marisa observed sourly.

"Yeah, I know. But it at least gives you time to find the money."

"I guess," Marisa admitted warily. "It just seems like a lot for books."

"It is Marisa, it is." Glancing down at her watch, Quinn notices that it's already ten after six. "Hey, I'm meeting someone for dinner in ten minutes or so. Hungry?"

"Sure. Just gimme a sec to check my mail and grab a coat."

"Cool. I'll knock on your door when I'm ready."

Ah, Marisa, Quinn thought as she closed the door. _It would be good to have a familiar face around during dinner, just in case._ Pulling out a chair, Quinn sits down at her desk, tapping the touch pad on her laptop to rouse the computer from its sleep. After a short moment, the soft whir of the cooling fan permeates the room as Quinn launches her E-mail program.

"Junk, Junk, Forward from Daria, read it later, random university notices, Ooh, chain mail," Quinn reads aloud. "Well, that was worth it," Quinn observed in bemusement, minimizing her E-mail program. Grabbing a small wallet containing a few dollars, a student ID, and a credit card, she closes the top on her laptop, slips back into her shoes, and heads out to get Marisa for dinner.

#

"There's nothing like a meal at the dining hall to make you miss that good old home cooking, eh Quinn?" Amber asked in amusement. Picking at her food, she looks across the table at Quinn. "Somehow, I get the feeling that salad isn't supposed to be brown."

"Um, actually, the food here is better than my father's cooking."

"Really?" Amber asked, surprised. "Is that possible?"

"I don't think the dining hall's food has sent anyone to the hospital," Quinn replied, staring down at her plate. "Although the jury may still be out on that one."

"Oh, it's not so bad Quinn," Marisa interjected. "At least it's all you can eat."

Assuming that you like grease, Quinn thought. _Sandi would be in hell here. Too bad she's not around,_ Quinn mused, smiling slightly at her private joke.

"You mean all you can stomach?" responded one of Amber's friends sarcastically.

"Oh, come on Dave, you know it's not all THAT bad."

"What, next you're going to tell me that it grows on me?"

"That would kind of defeat my argument, now wouldn't it?"

Quinn couldn't help but be amused by Amber and Dave's easy repartee about something so trivial as the food. They've already been here a year. She'd think it would get old by now.

"And we just couldn't have that, now could we?" Dave quipped, obviously teasing Amber. There was something about the familiarity between the two that Quinn found … interesting. Back at Lawndale, things were so simple. Boys were for dating, and girls were competition for said dates, simple as pie. Not that she could make pie, but that was another matter. Here, however, things were more difficult, confused.

"You know me," Amber replied in a pouty tone. "I've always gotta be on top"

"That's not what I've heard…" Dave responded in a suggestive voice. Surprised, Quinn and Marisa exchange a look of uncertainty, neither one terribly comfortable with this type of conversation.

"As if you would know," Amber countered, taking it in stride.

"Um, excuse me?" Marisa said meekly, looking at Amber with a questioning gaze. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

"All his, um, innuendo and stuff?"

"Oh that? Not at all. He's just trying to get a rise out of me."

Hmmm, Quinn thought. _Should I or shouldn't I?_ "Or are you trying to get a rise out of him?" she asked suggestively. _Oh God, she thought, did I really just say that?_

"Hey!" Amber shouted, momentarily surprised. Thinking for a second, she laughs at herself as she turns to Quinn. "Not bad Quinn, not bad at all. You've got potential kid."

"Are you always so nice to everyone?"

"Only those who can hold their own with me."

"Why Amber, you flatter me," Dave replied sweetly, flitting his eyes at Amber in an absurd gesture.

"Not you Dave, I'm just using you for homework."

"As long as there's no sex this time. There's only so much a man can take."

"Aww, did I tire you out?" Amber asked in a teasing voice. Shaking her head, she turns to Quinn and Marisa, speaking in a softer voice. "This is what you get for choosing a predominantly male field, I suppose."

"So, you don't like it?" Marisa asked curiously.

"I get to wrap men around my little finger. What's not to like?"

What indeed, Quinn thought. "And they don't mind?"

"Naw. This twerp aside, it's not as if I make them do much more than get together to work on homework. Oh, and buy pizza. Pizza is good."

"Pizza?"

"Breakfast of Champions."

"Pizza for Breakfast?" Quinn responded, more surprised than anything else.

"Sure," Amber responded, in a matter of fact manner. "It's easier on the stomach than curry chicken."

"Ewwwww …"

"Freshmen," Dave observed sardonically. "So closed-minded."

#

In her room after dinner, Quinn sits on her bed, reading slowly through the economics assignment. _I realize that this is a textbook_, Quinn thought as she finished the introduction, _but do they have to make it this boring?_ Scanning the next chapter briefly, she closes the book, pondering for a moment before deciding to check her E-mail again. _How did people ever procrastinate before computers_, Quinn wondered as she sits down in front of her computer.

Opening her mailbox, Quinn checks for new mail, receiving none. Noticing that Daria's forward is still marked as unread, Quinn double-clicks on the message, opening it in its own window.

Subject: Fwd: Fw: How sexy is your name?

From: DariaM

To : qm249@whu.edu

How sexy is your name?

> > > > According to studies, the first letter of your first name reveals your sexual identity ... What do you think?

> > > > -A-
>>>> 
>>>> You are not particularly romantic, but you are interested in action. You mean business. With you, what you see is what you get. You have no patience for flirting and can't be bothered with someone who is trying to be coy, cute, demure, and subtly enticing. You are an up front person. When it comes to sex, it's action that counts not obscure hints. Your mate's physical attractiveness is important to you. You find the chase and challenge of the "hunt" invigorating. You are passionate and sexual as well as being much more adventurous than you appear; however, you do not go around advertising these qualities. Your physical needs are your primary concern.
>>>> 
>>>> -B-
>>>> 
>>>> You give off vibes of lazy sensuality. You enjoy being romanced, wined, and dined. You are very happy to receive gifts as an expression of the affection of your lover. You want to be pampered and know how to pamper your mate. You are private in your expression of endearments and particularly when it comes to lovemaking. You will hold off until everything meets with your approval. You can control your appetite and abstain from sex if need be. You require new sensations and experiences. You are willing to experiment.

"Now why did Daria send me this?" Quinn wondered aloud. Curious, she scrolls down to see what the prediction for her name is.

> > > > -Q- 

You require constant activity and stimulation. You have tremendous physical energy. It is not easy for a partner to keep up with you, sexually or otherwise. You are an enthusiastic lover and tend to be attracted to people of other ethnic groups. You need romance, hearts and flowers, and lots of conversation to turn you on and keep you going.

"Oh, thank you very much Daria," Quinn exclaimed, slightly amused nonetheless. "Glad to know that you have such a high opinion of your little sister."

Thinking for a moment, Quinn scrolls back up to the beginning, looking for the 'D' section. As she reads it, Quinn stifles a laugh.

> > > > -D- 

Once you get it into your head that you want someone, you move full steam ahead in pursuit. You do not give up your quest easily. You are nurturing and caring. If someone has a problem, this turns you on. You are highly sexual, passionate, loyal, and intense in your involvement, sometimes possessive and jealous. Sex to you is a pleasure to be enjoyed. You are stimulated by the eccentric and unusual, having a free and open mind.

After a brief moment of thought, Quinn hits the reply button, a smile on her face.

Subject: Re: Fwd: Fw: How sexy is your name?

From: Quinn Morgendorffer qm249@whu.edu

To : DariaM

> > Thanks Daria. I never knew what a nurturing, caring individual you were, and certainly had no idea that you were into kinky sex. Does Mom know?

Quinn

> > -Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself and asks nothing beyond itself. Praise is no part of it, for nothing is made worse or better by praise.

Well, that ought to be good for at least a nasty response in the morning, Quinn thought. _Not that Daria would really be offended by any of it, but she had a reputation to protect. And if anyone's earned the right to tease their sister,_ Quinn mused, _it's definitely me._

Standing up again, Quinn notices that it is only 8:30. _It's amazing how much time is in a day when you aren't averaging two dates a night._ Reaching down, she grabs her chemistry book off the floor, reluctantly followed by her economics text and a five-subject notebook. Dropping a pen in her pocket, Quinn leaves, closing the door behind her.

#

Up a half-flight of stairs from Quinn's room lay the study lounge for the floor. As with most everything, the name could be deceptive. The study lounge served as one of the primary social areas for a given suite in a dorm, providing a comfortable public area for students to study, read, or share a greasy pizza at three in the morning, cramming for a test.

As Quinn entered, the décor still surprised her, although she had often sat in the lounge in the week before classes, getting to know her suitemates. _It's just awful_, she thought, fully realizing that the university wasn't about to replace perfectly functional furniture simply because it looked like a reject from a 70's leisure suit.

"Hey Quinn!"

"Oh, hey Justin," Quinn replied, somewhat surprised by his presence. Looking over at him, she pensively gazes at the dark-haired boy sitting next to Justin on the bench before hazarding a statement. "You're … Victor, right?"

"Can any of us really say who we are?" Victor replied without looking up.

"You'll have to excuse my roommate," Justin said, a chuckle in his voice. "He always seems to get philosophical when he thinks he's busy."

"Cuts down on questions," Victor offered, not terribly fond of being described in the third person.

"But what if someone responds?" Quinn asked.

"Then at least I get a good conversation out of the exchange."

"Don't mind him. He's a pre-med, terminal case," Justin observed, a jocular note in his voice. "I'm told that there's no known cure for this disease, so we'll just have to render supportive care and hope that we can bring him out of it on his own."

"Funny Justin. Current acceptance rates for medical school have fallen below forty percent, which doesn't even count all the people who gave up before they had the chance to apply. I have to work as hard as I can if I want to be sure to make it into medical school. You just don't understand the pressure a pre-med is under."

"Sure I do. I just don't think it's worth the trouble." Walking over to Quinn, he sits down next to her, casting a brief sideways glance at her books. "Studying already? You're almost as bad as Victor."

Seemingly paying Justin little mind, Quinn reaches out, making a brief note in her notebook. Dropping the pen into her textbook to mark her place, she calmly turns to Justin and playfully hits him over the head with her notebook. "Did you say something?" Quinn asked coyly.

"Oh, never mind," he replied, lifting the cover of Quinn's open book to glance at the title. "Chemistry? Isn't it a bit early to be worrying about that?"

There's never enough time to sufficiently worry about chemistry, Quinn thought. _All those formulas and interactions, it just never made that much sense to me._ "Well, we can't all be chemistry Olympians Justin."

"Potential Olympian. I was one of twenty candidates, but I wasn't one of the three selected to compete."

"So you're only one of the twenty best in the nation, rather than one of the three best," Victor said sardonically, hazarding a glance up from his work. Smiling at Justin with an implied challenge on his face, Victor returned to his work before Justin could respond.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"And miss this wonderful lesson on geek flirtation?"

"I'm not …" Justin mumbled, trying to find the perfect words as a gentle shade of pink covered his face. _It was really quite charming,_ Quinn thought. She had plenty of experience with boys reaching for dates with her, due to her good looks and instant popularity. But Justin treated her more like a friend than a girl. It was something Quinn was ill accustomed to, but, like a drug, the more she received, the more she wanted.

"This isn't geek flirtation, its geek friendliness," Quinn teased.

"Gee, thanks Quinn. I think…"

"Don't mention it." Looking over to where Justin had been sitting, Quinn notices that he doesn't appear to have any books with him. "Are you working on anything?"

"Nope. The power in our room went out, tripped a breaker or something. It takes a while for the damn thing to reset once it trips."

"Oh," Quinn remarked thoughtfully. "I just wanted to get out of my room for a while," she admitted sheepishly.

"Stir crazy already?"

"Nope. Just felt like being around people."

"So you could read a chemistry text."

"Misery loves company," Quinn said, lifting the chemistry book in a symbolic gesture.

"It can't be that bad now," Justin reassured Quinn. Leaning over, Justin rests his chin on Quinn's shoulder as he scans Quinn's book. For her part, Quinn glances at Justin uncertainly. Part of her wanted to push him back, the 'not until the fifth date' reaction she had so vigorously cultivated in high school. But Justin was merely reading innocently, as far as Quinn could tell. _Besides, it feels rather nice,_ she thought secretly. In the end, the situation resolved itself, as Justin sat back, shaking his head, a bemused smirk on his face.

"Oh, stoichiometry. Yeah, that pretty much sucks. Sorry."

"I thought you liked chemistry?"

"Chemistry, yes. This is more of applied math though, just balancing equations. The fun stuff comes later."

"Fun stuff?"

"Yeah. There's some really cool stuff that you can do. Here, let me see that book for a second." Opening to a chapter in the book, he sets the book on her lap, leaning over as he begins to explain to Quinn the finer points of chemistry.

#

Back in her room, Quinn removes her shoes, getting ready for bed. _Justin loves talking about chemistry,_ she mused. Had someone suggested even this morning that she would find chemical equilibrium remotely interesting, she would have dismissed it out of hand. But he had so much enthusiasm that Quinn found herself genuinely interested at times, to her great surprise. Sliding her economics text and a notebook into her backpack, Quinn slips into a t-shirt, and had just taken off her pants when her computer emitted a telltale beep. I thought I turned that off, she thought, as she pulls on her shorts. After staring at the computer for a moment, she sits down, tapping gently to bring up the screen and the new E-mail.

Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: Fw: How sexy is your name?

From: DariaM

To : Mistress Quinn qm249@whu.edu

> > Well of course she knew. Why do you think she had me spend so much time at Jane's?

Daria

> > -The phenomenon of decadence is as necessary as any increase and advance of life: one is in no position to abolish it. Reason demands, on the contrary, that we do justice to it.

Quinn smirks as she finishes the message, pleased that Daria hadn't been too offended at her previous E-mail. _This truly is an age of miracles_, she thought, _when even Daria can take a joke. _Putting her computer to sleep, she slides into her bed, laying her head back on the pillow. Staring up at her ceiling, she couldn't help but feel some degree of satisfaction. _Not bad for the girl's whose own mother "couldn't think about what went wrong there."_

If Helen had known that she was hiding behind a car the whole time, she would have been devastated. Sighing, Quinn remembered it all too clearly. It had taken her a while to realize exactly what her mother had meant, but Quinn wasn't a complete moron, even back then. Watching surreptitiously over the following months, she realized something. Her parents were proud of Daria, of her achievements. Granted her parents, Helen in particular, were concerned about Daria's social development, her casual disdain for so much of the modern world. Even so, it was clear to Quinn that they were proud of Daria nonetheless.

In contrast, Quinn had realized that she was being tolerated, handled. It wasn't like they didn't love her or anything, and probably didn't even realize that they were doing it. But after so many years, their expectations for Quinn had fallen far below what she was capable of. Despite this, Quinn had almost convinced herself that she was just being paranoid, when she got her PSTAT scores back. That was a major turning point for Quinn, when she made a life-altering decision. I am pretty, I am popular, but I am not stupid. _Now to prove it_, she thought, drifting off to sleep.

Waking the next morning, Quinn gets up, rubbing her eyes as she slowly stands. Groggily, she makes her way to the door, searching briefly before finding the light switch. Grimacing slightly as the room is bathed in a bright light, she walks over to the closet. After opening the door, Quinn stares into the closet in a moment of quiet consideration. Reaching in, she proceeds to remove a fluffy pink towel with 'Quinn Morgendorffer' embroidered along the top, a pair of blue jeans, and a deep maroon t-shirt. Raiding her dresser for underwear, a bra, and the toiletries kit given to her by her aunt Rita, she collects the entire ensemble into a neat pile, trudging off to the shower.

#

Later that morning, inside a comfortable classroom, a group of students are sitting around a large round table, chatting in a reserved fashion with each other. As Quinn enters, she scans the room, finding an empty seat between a heavyset young man and an African-American girl with bright red hair. Sitting down in her seat, she turns to the girl, studying her hair with a queer expression.

"Yes, it's dye," the girl offered brusquely.

"I kind of figured that," Quinn responded, looking down with an abashed expression on her face. "The black roots kind of give it away." Pausing momentarily, Quinn collects her thoughts before proceeding. "Do you like it that way?"

" Well, it's kind of fun, and this way, if people look at me strangely, they can just pretend that it's because of my hair."

"Why else would they look at you strangely?"

"Hello? How many black students have you seen here?"

"Oh. I see," Quinn admitted. "I guess I didn't notice," she said, embarrassed.

"Why would you? It's not like it'll cause you any problems."

Oh boy, Quinn thought. "Well, you'll always have the hair, won't you?"

The girl looks at Quinn briefly before responding. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm Sam."

"Sam?"

"Short for Samantha."

"Ah, Ok. I'm Quinn," she offered, glad to be on less tenuous ground.

"So Quinn, are you into mythology?"

"Well, sort of. It helped that this class happened to fit my schedule pretty well."

"You too? I was afraid that I would be the only semi-enthusiastic person here."

"We're freshmen meeting at eight in the morning. I don't think over-enthusiasm will be a major problem," Quinn observed, still a little bleary in the eyes.

Sam begins to speak, but is interrupted as a twenty-something man in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt enters, removing a backpack from his shoulder to extract a notebook. Opening the notebook, he takes an official-looking list and stands up in front of the class. Briefly canvassing the class, he clears his throat, garnering the silence of most of the students in attendance.

"Class? If I could get your attention please? My name is Jeremy, and I've been assigned to teach this class. I need to go through the roster to make sure that everyone is here, so when your name is called, let me know that you're here, OK?"

"Professor?" a girl asked, raising her hand.

"Call me Jeremy. I'm a grad student, not a professor."

"Oh. Can you sign my add/drop form?"

"I could, but it wouldn't mean anything," he replied, somewhat disappointed at the answer he had to give. "You'll have to go down to the department office for that. They don't permit grad students to sign official forms, other than tuition checks, that is."

Scanning the class, Jeremy pauses for a few seconds, giving time for any additional questions. Receiving none, he begins calling student names from the roster.

Making a final note, Jeremy places the class roster back on the desk, finished with the roll call. "Ok, I should have everyone down now. Those of you who aren't officially in the class need to contact the department to be added pretty soon. Let me know if there are any problems, and I'll do what little I can to resolve them." Pausing, he extracts a nagalene bottle from his backpack, taking a small sip of water before continuing.

"Hopefully, y'all realize that this is a class on mythology. More specifically, we will be studying the traditional Greek and Roman mythology, with a limited coverage of derived works such as those of Homer and Virgil. But first, I'd like to pose a simple question to all of you. Why does mythology exist?"

"Because someone wrote down the legends of the time?" the boy next to Quinn proposed.

"You're missing the point," he replied gently. "What was the motivation of the legends? Why go to all the trouble to create such an intricate and complex system, a system that was evidently part of public life if temples are any indication. What fundamental need did mythology fulfill?"

Back near the window, a conservative student speaks up in response. "They were lacking a spiritual life, and were not yet prepared to accept the truth of the one true God," he stated with utter confidence.

"Prepared? In what way?"

Rising to the challenge, the student hesitates but a moment in responding. "They were not ready to make the difficult leap and admit that there was but one God for all mankind."

Great, Quinn thought, fearing the worst. _My second day of classes, and we're already starting a holy war, like when Stacy decided that she didn't like Sandi's shoes …_

Looking up in a conscious attempt to pay attention rather than let herself be distracted, Quinn was surprised. Not only did Jeremy seem entirely unconcerned at the situation, he actually seemed to enjoy it. As Jeremy turned his seat to face the student, Quinn leans forward, curious.

"So you feel that accepting the one God was simply too difficult for the ancient Greeks to accept. Is that it?"

"Yes. They could not conceive of anything as beautiful as our Lord."

"If you don't mind me asking, why was that so difficult?" Jeremy said innocently.

Taken aback, the student gives him with a strange look as Quinn watches in fascination. "Well, to realize that you're wrong, and that there is but one God …" he reiterated, much less confident than he had been earlier.

"You don't understand the question," Jeremy interrupted. "Historically, if we look at Christianity, it WAS difficult, but much of that difficulty was due to being persecuted, tortured, and killed for your beliefs. Looking at the beliefs themselves, the traditional Christian believed in a single God who loved all, a kind God who was vengeful only as necessary. In contrast, the pagan gods of Greek and Roman mythology were a convoluted lot, often working at cross-purposes against one another and causing trouble to many a mortal who happened to get in the way. So which is more difficult, believing that a loving God will watch over you, and reward you for the hardships you've endured for him, or believing that your gods work mainly for their own benefit, caring little for a mere mortal?"

"Um …" the student stammered, uncomfortable with the recent turn of events. Quinn smirks as the student sits back in his seat, admitting defeat. As he does, Jeremy stands, trying to make a point to the whole class.

"Polytheism was not necessarily 'easier' than monotheistic beliefs, and treating them as such can affect your reading of classical mythology. But getting back to the first question, what was the purpose for mythology? What basic desire was satiated?"

Taking a chance, Quinn slowly raises her hand, nervous but determined. Jeremy looks to Quinn, glad to have elicited a response from the class. "Yes, Quinn is it?"

"Yes, Quinn," she reiterated, buying an extra second or two. "It seems that, like, a lot of the myths seem to, uh, explain how stuff works. The world, I mean." Pausing for a moment, Quinn gives a slight shake of her head, trying for a better explanation. "If you look at mythology and all, there are a lot of stories about how the world works, like, um, Apollo as the sun, and that Atlas guy holding up the sky. So, um, was mythology a way to explain, like, how things work?"

Quinn looks slightly away as she finishes, trying to hide the fear that she had just made a fool of herself, made herself look stupid in front of her classmates. Thankfully, the fear was short-lived, as Jeremy's face lit up in satisfaction.

"That's an excellent observation Quinn. That is in fact one of the major purposes of mythology, to provide an explanation of the natural world around them. By providing an explanation, mythology helped people to understand their world, to be more comfortable with it, as it were. There is another major angle to mythology that y'all should be able to see. Any guesses?"

The class looks at him with uncertain expressions, unsure about what he's looking for. Reaching down, a few students remove one of the textbooks, scanning the pages for a clue, when a soft voice is heard.

"Morals?" a woman asks from the back of the class.

"How so?" probed Jeremy, trying to extract more details from the student.

"Well, there's a bunch of stuff about what to do and what not to do. Lots of heroes, like Jason and Theseus, but lots of anti-heroes, like Arachne and Narcissa. So, like, it seems to me that they were a way of teaching people how to behave…"

"Very good! There's just a little extra piece. In addition to saying 'this is good, this is bad', the myths also provided rewards and punishments. If you were really good, you could become a god, whereas if you were really bad, you would spend eternity in Tartarus as punishment. So myths were both a list of approved behavior and a threat/promise of punishment/rewards," Jeremy lectured enthusiastically. "Of course, these myths were intimately entwined in the culture of the time," Jeremy notes, proceeding to start a class discussion on the subject.

"So, today we've discussed the basic motivations for mythology, and how these factors interacted with the local culture to affect the myths themselves," Jeremy tells the class, wrapping up for the day. "Before next class, I would like you to read the first three sections in our first book, which covers the basic creation myths found in Greek culture. Next class, we'll be discussing these myths, with an eye towards comparing them to the creation myths of other cultures. Are there any questions? No? Then that's the class for today."

As Jeremy closes up his notebook, Quinn does the same, placing it back into her backpack and preparing to leave the class. Standing up, she picks up her backpack, turning to Sam as she does.

"See you next class?"

"Yeah, I'll be here. God, this is too early for me."

Sam walks out the door. As Quinn moves to follow her, Jeremy addresses her. "Quinn? Do you have a minute?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Quinn answered, trying to figure out why she had been singled out. _Did I do that badly,_ she wondered?

"Did you have a class on mythology in high school?"

"Um, not really. My sister had a lot of books though. Why?"

"Well, you really seemed to understand what was going on in our discussions today. I just thought you'd like to know."

"Oh," Quinn uttered, genuinely surprised. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome. See you Thursday?"

"Yeah, I'll be here," Quinn said uncertainly. Turning to head out of the classroom, a smile spreads over Quinn's face.

#

Beneath the bright blue sky, Quinn sits down in the shade of a large oak tree, looking out over the quad as the sunlight splays across the green grass. Removing the shrink-wrapped sandwich and diet soda she had picked up at the dining hall, she leans back against the tree beginning her lunch.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, she removes her economics book, reading slowly in the gentle fall air. _How is it that they can ruin a simple turkey sandwich,_ she wondered. Quinn was far from a gourmet cook, but even she could handle a few slices of meat between two pieces of bread. Quinn smiled in amusement at the fact that the same university that was directing her education somehow directed these people who couldn't make a decent sandwich.

"Quinn?" Marisa asked, walking up behind Quinn, interrupting her train of thought. "Is that you?"

"None other. What are you doing here?"

"It's just too nice a day to spend inside. I mean look around! Everything's so green and warm. You've gotta enjoy weather like this while it lasts."

"Spoken like a true Canadian."

"Whatever. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Sure, there's plenty of grass to go around."

As Marisa sits down and takes out her lunch, Quinn returns to her book, trying once again to finish the chapter. Sighing, she closes the book, turning to Marisa. "Somehow, I don't think that the most beautiful setting on earth would be enough to make this book interesting. Do the professors, like, get to choose which books they use?"

Hesitating a moment to swallow her food, Marisa looks at Quinn in a thoughtful stare. "I guess so," she offered tentatively, "I wonder how they choose…" Thinking a moment, Marisa reaches out with her hand. "Could I see the book for a minute?"

"Sure," Quinn replied, handing over the book. _How tempting it is just to tell her to keep it._ The thought of wading through that entire text was not something that she was particularly looking forward to. Looking over at Marisa, Quinn watched as she studied the first page or two of the book. _Why would she be interested in the copyright information,_ Quinn wondered. The answer came quickly, as Marisa handed over the book pointing to a single line:

> > Assistant Editor : Dr. Peter Warre

__

Well, that's certainly interesting, Quinn thought. _It definitely explains why he likes the book._ Pondering it a moment, Quinn makes another important realization. _It probably isn't the best idea to make my feelings about the book known to the professor. He might take it personally, after all._

"I'll bet he gets paid for using that book," Marisa observed as she opened a bottle of iced tea.

"What," Quinn asked in surprise, "You think they bribed him?"

"Not exactly. But I'll bet he gets a royalty for each book sold. So, like, by making the whole class buy his book, he probably earns some money."

"I don't think he'd do that just for the royalties, do you?"

"Probably not. But if you were the editor for a text, don't you think you'd want to use it for your class?"

"Not this book," Quinn scoffed.

"Hey, to each their own, I suppose."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm just not looking forward to reading through this whole book for the class. It's just utterly tedious."

"Why don't you get another book, a better one?"

"What?" Quinn asked, not understanding.

"Well, just because you're required to buy that book doesn't mean that you couldn't get another book, does it?"

"You know, that's a really good idea. Thanks."

#

After a nice lunch on the quad, trading writing seminar stories with Marisa, Quinn sets off to track down her final class of the day. Luckily for her, labs didn't start for another week or so, giving Quinn and the rest of the freshmen a chance to get their life in order. The language department was housed in Jameson Hall, a quaint building in a secluded edge of campus, it's walls of brick and mortar covered in a thick mat of ivy. Out near the forest preserve, it was easily Quinn's longest walk of the day, the farthest from her dorm room by far.

Entering a small classroom intended for no more than forty students, Quinn takes a seat, waiting for class to start. _Spanish,_ she thought. University regulations required a foreign language, and most of the people she had seen in arranging her schedule recommended Spanish as a good choice. It was one of the more common languages in the United States, and she was assured that it looked good on a resume, although that was a concern for after graduation, years from now.

At the front of the classroom, a tall Hispanic woman with long black hair enters, standing at the front of the classroom. Checking her watch, she begins the class almost exactly at the appointed hour.

"Buenos tardes, estudiantes. Me llamo Senora Martinez, y daré clases de español para Ustedes."

Ok, Quinn thought sourly, _if I knew what you're saying, I wouldn't need this class._

"Quisas quieren saber si puedo hablar en ingles. Es verdad, Yo hablo ingles cuando es necessario, pero espero que después de uno o dos meses, podríamos hablar sólamente in español."

Realizing the confused look emanating from the classroom, the professor addresses the class in English this time. "I'm Professor Martinez, and I'll be teaching Spanish 101 this year. It is my hope that after the first month or two, we can speak only in Spanish. It is my opinion that the best way to learn Spanish is to speak Spanish, and that is exactly what we will do."

Sighing, Quinn opens her notebook and pulls a pen out of her pocket, preparing for the long class ahead of her.

#

Back at the dorm, Quinn enters her room, carrying another large bag of books, a bag that she unceremoniously dumps at the foot of her bed, next the others. Gently setting her backpack down, she looks out the window for a moment, going over her assignments in her head. _Three chapters of economics, two of chemistry, a few myths for a discussion session, and the first section of her Spanish text, including writing out all of the problems included therein. It was a lot of work._

Heading over to her closet, Quinn opens the door, staring inside. To the right, there are a plethora of shirts, jeans, and dresses, arranged carefully by color. To the right is a single, solitary outfit hanging loosely off of a hanger. As Quinn turns the outfit slightly, it comes clearly into view, a small pink t-shirt with a butterfly across the top and a pair of bell-bottom pants. Quinn looks for a moment, closing the closet door with a thunk. As she moves towards her bed, someone knocks at the door.

"Hey Quinn! It's Marisa!"

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"A bunch of us are going out for pizza. Wanna join us?"

"Sure," Quinn responded. "Just let me grab my wallet."

Picking up her wallet and keys from her desk, Quinn looks back at her room in satisfaction. _I can do this,_ she thought. _I will survive college._ Shutting off the light, she heads out the door and out for dinner with her new friends.


	2. Dilemmas In Dating

Dilemmas in Dating ****

Dilemmas in Dating

AQuinnFan Fiction by the Alchemist

Episode #102

_DISCLAIMER – Quinn and the cast of Daria are wholly owned by MTV/Viacom. Non-Daria characters are wholly developed and created by the author, and remain the property of said author. This work may be copied, posted, or re-transmitted for any non-commercial use provided that it is not altered in any fashion without the explicit consent of the author._

Feedback and comments may be sent to alchemist17@space.com

Quinn walked slowly through the door to the lab, setting her bag down next to her bench. _Chemistry. Why the hell did it have to be chemistry_, Quinn thought, surveying the bench. Somehow, the array of beakers, flasks, and test tubes did not excite Quinn. _Things were so much easier in High School,_ she mused as she removed her notebook from her bag.

"Hey, I'm Scott! And you are," asked the red-haired boy walking up to the bench next to hers.

"Hi. I'm Quinn."

"Hi Quinn." Looking about the classroom, he watched the entering students for a moment before continuing. "So, are you a chemistry major?"

Quinn eyed Scott nervously for a moment. "Um, no. I don't actually have a major at the moment. I'm still, uh, trying to figure that out…"

"Hey, nothing to be ashamed of," he said, patting her on the back. "If you promise not to tell, I'll let you in on a little secret." He leaned over in a faux-conspiratorial tone. "I'm not a chemistry major either. Well, 'not yet', according to my friends back home."

"Not yet?"

"I was pretty good at chemistry back in high school. Probably because I spent a fair amount of time trying to synthesize explosives in my basement."

Quinn looked up at him, backing away slightly. "Are you, um, serious?"

Scott returned Quinn's look, smiling slightly. "Oh, absolutely." Noticing Quinn's concerned expression, he continued. "Don't worry, I wasn't actually planning on DOING anything, mind you. I just wanted to see if I could…"

"Didn't your mom mind?" Quinn couldn't even imagine getting away with something like that at home.

"Well, all of my equipment was down there, so my mom kind of avoided the basement whenever possible."

"Oh." Quinn looked back over her lab bench, staring at the assortment of glassware in front of her, buying herself a few moments to think. _I should be nice_, she thought. _I'll be stuck next to him all semester._

"I hope I didn't scare you Quinn…"

"Oh, well, its, um … not that really. Its just, uh, sort of geeky."

"Well yeah. I'm a geek."

Quinn looked back at Scott in surprise. 'Geeky' was THE supreme insult for, oh, as long as she could remember. To call yourself a geek …

"Don't you mind being called a geek?"

"Why? I'm smart, I'm interested in 'strange' academic pursuits, and I like it. Doesn't that make me a geek?"

"Um, yeah. But … why would you call yourself a geek?"

"Hey, it's true, and it doesn't bother me. So why not?"

As the class filtered in around her, Quinn considered Scott's candid answer. She had learned over her last two years in high school that you could learn without being considered a 'geek', that being popular didn't require being stupid as well. But to intentionally call yourself a geek? It just didn't make sense to Quinn.

"I guess. Do you know what we're supposed to do this class?"

"My roommate went through this yesterday. We get a list or something, and we have to go through and check all of our glassware and equipment to make sure we have everything."

"Why?"

"Because if we don't, we'll be charged for it at the end of the semester."

"Charged?"

"Yeah. You have to pay for everything you break."

"Oh." _Cataloging_, Quinn thought. _That shouldn't take too long, should it?_

Leaving the building, Quinn looked up at the quickly falling night. "Shouldn't take too long," she muttered to herself. "Right." As she headed across the quad back towards her dorm, she couldn't help but wonder why so much was missing from almost everyone's lab bench. _If they checked them at the end of the year, shouldn't everything be there?_

Stopping for a moment, she looked down at her watch. _6:30._ _I would have been on my first date by now_, Quinn thought. _I'd be going out for dinner, a movie, maybe a concert. I certainly wouldn't be still in class._ Quinn sighed. _But this is all for my own good, right?_

Walking in a slow gait, Quinn made her way across the Quad, stopping as the sidewalk reached the street. Turning to her right, she looked for a long moment at the dining hall. _6:30._ Pushing through the double doors, Quinn entered the dining hall.

#

Inside a standard double room, Marisa sat on her bed. Reaching out, she ruffled briefly through a small stack of papers amidst the piles that were sprawled over her bed. Using her fingers, she bowed the papers slightly to keep them from drooping backwards on her. She held the paper up momentarily, studying it for a second before throwing it back on her bed.

"Yeah, like I really care about what Socrates would think if he were to spend a semester at our fine alma-mater."

Across the room, Christine, a petite Asian woman, looked up from her computer. "How about 'why aren't I dead yet'?"

"Isn't that what we're all thinking?"

"No, I don't particularly want to die." Christine looked up from her computer. "I just wish that our CS professor would, ideally before our next assignment."

Marisa scribbled something quickly in her notebook before responding. "Are you still complaining about that damn assignment?"

"Aren't you still complaining about yours?"

"Point taken."

Christine stood up, turning off her monitor. "Well, that's about all I can handle of that for now. You want to catch dinner?"

Setting down her pen, Marisa gazed at her roommate. "No, that's Ok. I told Quinn I'd wait for her."

#

Moving down the staircase, Quinn entered the cafeteria, the smell of grease permeating the air. _They make the best fries here_, she thought as the smell registered, making her way into the takeout line.

"Next! Whadda ya want?"

"Um, just an order of fries."

"For here?"

"No. To go."

As the man at the grill reached down to fill Quinn's order, the student ahead of Quinn looked back at her. "Ever the pleasant grill-side manner…"

Quinn looked up from the grill to see a tall boy smiling at her. _He's kind of cute_, she thought momentarily before suppressing her instinctive response. "That's why I don't leave a tip."

"Oh, I don't leave a tip because I'm cheap."

Quinn laughed slightly, ready to respond when the grill man interrupted her train of thought. "Your order's ready. Here ya go."

Picking up her fries, Quinn slid forward in line, removing a yogurt and a pair of diet cokes from the cooler.

The student from earlier came up behind Quinn, removing a soda. "Yogurt, fries, and diet coke?"

"A girl's gotta eat, doesn't she?"

"I suppose," he said, smiling at her.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. But you forgot the mayo." Quinn looked at him, confused. "For your fries."

"Mayo? On fries? Ewww…"

"You should try it," he said, chuckling slightly. "You might even like it. I'm Roger, by the way."

"Roger? Um, hi."

"So, you eat here often?"

"Every day," Quinn responded.

"Would you care to join me for dinner?"

Quinn looked at Roger, an expression of sorrow on her face. "Well, actually I've got a lot of work that I need to get done tonight…"

"Say no more," he said, waving his hand. "But in that case, could I interest you in dinner and a movie this Saturday?"

Looking at Roger, Quinn thought for a moment. _What was that saying_, she thought. _All work and no play? _Quinn was sure that it was something like that. "Um, sure."

Reaching into his pocket, Roger removed a small piece of paper, leaning over to write on it before handing it over to Quinn. "Here you go, my phone number and my E-mail address. Call me when you have time to consider when and where, Ok?"

"Um, sure," Quinn said as Roger moved up to the checkout line. _Aren't I supposed to give him my number?_ Handing her ID card to the cashier, she pondered this for a moment. _When did things get so complicated_, she wondered as the cashier returned her ID card. Making her way to the counter, she placed her food in a bag, pausing a moment before heading back to the dorms.

#

"Quinn! So nice of you to join me."

"Hey Marisa. Sorry I'm late," Quinn replied, entering the room. Looking around the double room, she pulled the chair out from Marisa's desk, sitting down as she removed her dinner from her backpack. "Where's your roommate?"

"Christine? She's out at dinner with her friends." Marisa looked at the bag in Quinn's hand as the scent of French fries permeated the room. With a slight scowl, she walked over to the small refrigerator sitting next to the door. _You wait for someone and what do you get?_ Removing a can of soda and a small yogurt, she closed the door. "I thought you'd be back earlier…"

"Well, the lab took, like, forever. I think the TA guy was senile or something."

"Anything interesting happen?"

Quinn looked up at Marisa with a smile. "Well, I did get a date for Saturday."

"In chemistry?"

Quinn laughed briefly. "No, I ran into a guy at the dining hall. He seemed nice. He gave me his number."

"So what about Justin?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on," Marisa said, cocking her head at Quinn. "You have a crush on him."

"I do not."

"So why do you spend so much time 'studying' with him?"

"Well, um," Quinn stammered. "It's just, um, that I'm not all that great at chemistry, and I needed some help."

"Sure, you're just concerned about your education."

"I am!"

"And just what was that in the lounge Monday?"

"Marisa!" Quinn shouted. "It was 3AM! I just fell asleep."

"Sure you did. Whatever you say Quinn."

Quinn looked over at Marisa. She knew when she was being teased, and from long experience knew that there was rarely any escape. Sighing, she took her books out of her bag, setting them on the desk. "Sorry to spoil your fun, but I do like, need to study."

"Of course. Just stay over there. You're nice and all, but I don't swing that way."

"Marisa …" Quinn said in a dangerous tone.

"Relax Quinn. You're WAY to gullible."

Quinn opened her textbook, ignoring Marisa's comment. _Let yourself fall asleep just once_, she thought, _and you'll never hear the end of it_. Scanning her textbook, she began reading the chapter. _Production possibility frontier?_ With a sigh, she took out a notebook and started taking notes.

#

Later that night, Quinn entered her room, dropping her books on her desk. _Well_, she thought, _that finishes tomorrow's econ assignment. Ick._

Picking up her backpack, she removed a notebook, placing it on a pile on the small bookshelf next to her closet. Reaching down to her bed, she picked up her economics notebook and her chemistry notebook, placing them in her bag. Thinking for a second, Quinn checked her economics notebook, reassuring herself that the homework assignment was indeed inside her backpack.

Zipping her bag, she dropped it on the floor next to her bed. She reached down, picking up a nightshirt from the bed. Just as she pulled it on, the phone rang.

"Hello?" Quinn asked, picking up the phone.

"Quinn? It's mom."

"Mom? Is something wrong?"

"No dear. Can't a mother call her daughter just to talk to her?"

"Um, I suppose…"

"So, how's school? Is everything going Ok?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, classes are a LOT more annoying here, and they give you all these long obnoxious homework assignments, oh yeah, I mean problem sets, that you have to work on for hours and all, but its really not too bad…"

"Um, that's great Quinn," Helen said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "How about everything else? Are you all settled in your room?"

"Yes mom," Quinn sighed. "Remember, you and dad wouldn't leave until everything was just perfect?"

"Well Quinn, you're our little girl. What do you expect?"

More years of benign neglect? "Was there anything else? I have to get up early for my class tomorrow."

"Um, Ok Quinn," Helen said, vaguely disappointed. "You know, you can call us anytime you want…"

"Yes mom, I know."

"Um, good night Quinn."

"Good night mom."

Hanging up the phone, Quinn shook her head slightly. Helen was one of the last people she would have thought would develop a case of empty nest syndrome. But in a strange way, it did sort of make sense, she supposed. _And it's not like Daria is a big talker either. _Sighing, she pulled on a pair of shorts, climbing into bed.

#

Quinn entered the classroom early the next morning, prepared for another morning of lectures. As she reached her row, she stopped, looking in surprise at Amber, sitting in her seat, her face down on the desk.

"Um, Amber?"

Straightening up, Amber looked up at Quinn, blinking her eyes several times in quick succession to clear her sight. "Wha?"

"You're here early." Quinn paused for a moment, thinking. "You're never here this early."

Amber glanced down at her watch, taking a second to make out the time. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair. "Any telemarketer who calls college students before 7AM deserves to be shot."

"Telemarketer?"

"Telemarketer," Amber replied bitterly. "I got a call at 6:30 this morning. I answered, worried that something big had happened, since my family and friends know not to call me before 10, on threat of bodily harm." Amber shook her head. "Needless to say, when I heard the phrase 'I'm calling to offer you the opportunity for a great new credit card', I was not pleased. "

"What happened?"

"I was rather … rude on the phone."

"Rude?"

"**They** hung up on **me**."

"Wow." Quinn thought for a moment. "Why didn't you go back to sleep?"

Amber sighed. "I just can't get back to sleep after something like that, at least not well enough to do me any good. So I took a shower, got dressed, and came over here."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Amber shrugged. "And I got a chance to go over my homework assignment."

"Don't get me started."

"You didn't finish?"

"No, I finished," Quinn said. Hesitating a moment, she sat down next to Amber. "I just don't see why he assigns us problems before he covers them in lecture."

"That's his style, I guess. He wants us to learn before he lectures, so we'll understand better. It is his first year teaching, after all."

"But none of my other professors do that!"

"Well, just wait until he gets his evaluations."

"Evaluations," Quinn asked.

"Yep. At the end of the year, the students and TA's get the chance to evaluate the professors. Trust me, he'll get roasted by everyone."

"Everyone? Why wouldn't the TA's like him?"

"Quinn, who do you think ends up teaching the students everything?"

"Um, the textbook?"

Amber looked over at Quinn, laughing briefly. "Freshmen," she said in amusement. "No, most people end up going to office hours. They're listed on the class syllabus."

"Oh?"

"Yep. They go over the assignment and help people with the assignment. Usually, you'd only see a few people unless there was an exam, but last night, there must have been thirty or forty people. The TA was not impressed."

I'll bet, Quinn thought. _I'm not all that impressed either_. Thinking for a moment, Quinn asked Amber a question. "Are office hours really that helpful?"

Amber straightened up in her chair, rubbing her face. "Sometimes, yeah. I mean, the TA's are usually grad students, who often do a better job at explaining things in a way that us mere mortals can understand."

"Oh." _Maybe I should try one_, Quinn thought to herself.

As the professor entered the room, Quinn took her notebook from her bag, pulling out the assignment.

"Class? Please pass your assignments to the left now."

Quinn took Amber's assignment, setting both on the desk at the end of the aisle. Turning to an empty page in her notebook, Quinn took a pen from her pocket, ready to take notes.

#

"Don't forget class, read chapter seven for next class. The next homework assignment will be handed out Monday, although for those wanting to start earlier, it should be posted on the class web site later tonight."

"Great, more work," Quinn said as she put her books away.

"What, you were expecting something different?"

"Every week, its always more homework."

"Well, in two or three weeks, you'll get a test instead."

"Wonderful."

Amber stood up slowly, stretching her legs. "Coffee?"

"Um, Ok."

"Good. I need caffeine, and sugar."

"You know," Quinn said, "If you just went to bed earlier, you might be more awake in the morning."

Amber looked at Quinn with a confused stare. "Early? What is this 'early' you speak of?"

Quinn laughed. "Come on. First, coffee. Then we'll find you a nice English dictionary…"

#

Inside the coffee shop, Quinn and Amber sat in a booth against the wall. Quinn took a sip of her coffee, smiling slightly. _Mmmm, French Vanilla. Good stuff_. Looking over at Amber, Quinn watched for a moment as Amber nursed her coffee.

"Feeling better yet?"

Amber looked up at Quinn, an abashed smile on her face. "Yeah, a little. Have I ever mentioned that I hate mornings?"

"Every Monday and Friday, without fail."

"What about Wednesdays?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't actually seen you in class on Wednesdays."

"Oh, yeah," Amber replied. Pausing a moment, she picked up her cup, taking long sip. "I guess I'd just rather get my sleep in my bed than in class. It's quieter there."

"Like I said, you could just go to bed early."

"Early? What is this early?"

Smiling, Quinn took another sip of her coffee, shaking her head.

#

Quinn left her economics session later that morning, concluded after fifty minutes of near-frantic lecturing by the TA . Stopping for a moment, she looked around, spending a minute or two watching a group of students playing Frisbee on the soft grass. _If college is about learning_, she thought, _why are such simple activities like a game of Frisbee so popular?_

As she moved on, heading across the quad, she ducked suddenly to avoid an errant Frisbee. Reaching down, she picked up the yellow disc.

"A little help please?"

Looking over at the student, she smiled at him. "Sure," she said, awkwardly flicking the Frisbee over to him.

"Thanks," he said, picking up the Frisbee. As he left, he surreptitiously gave Quinn a once over with his eyes. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed, but Quinn was better attuned to noticing and analyzing such actions than most. Walking slowly, she hazarded a glance at the group.

Quinn scowled slightly. She was used to attention, used to people staring at her, paying attention to her. But, well, things seemed, somehow different here. They weren't staring at her to admire her beauty. There was something more, a fact that Quinn wasn't entirely comfortable with. _They look at me as an object,_ she thought, _as if they expect something from me._ She shook her head. The guys checking her out were bad enough, but once in a while, she noticed the same look from another girl as well. _The price of being attractive,_ she thought.

Just as Quinn reached the steps, she stopped abruptly. "I wonder if this is how all those guys in high school felt," she said in a moment of realization. Forcing down her concern temporarily, Quinn collected herself and entered the dining hall.

#

Inside the dining hall, Justin stood in the checkout line when someone tapped him on his shoulder. Turning carefully to avoid dumping his lunch, he came face to face with Victor, his roommate.

"Oh, hey. Didn't expect to see you here."

Victor shrugged. "I thought I'd grab lunch to go before my bio lecture."

Justin smiled at him. "You know Victor, normal people don't schedule classes during lunch."

"Normal people don't get into medical school."

"Good point."

"Um, do you have any plans for this weekend?"

Looking at him in slight confusion, Justin tried to figure out what was going on. "Not really, no."

"Well, Lisa is coming up this weekend, and, well …"

"Lisa? Do I know a Lisa?"

Victor looked slightly annoyed. "Lisa, my girlfriend?"

"Oh." Justin thought for a moment before understanding exactly what Victor was asking. "Oh, I see. Um, yeah, I need to, um, study. Big chem problem set. Lots of work."

Victor's face softened, showing genuine appreciation. "Um, thanks." As they moved up in line, he smiled. "Maybe you could even get to know Quinn better…"

"Don't I wish".

#

Across the room, Quinn moved up in line, finally reaching the cashier.

"Salad, breadsticks, and juice. Anything else?"

"Nope. On meal plan," Quinn said, handing her ID card over to the cashier.

"Yep," he replied, swiping her card through the machine. Watching for a moment, he checked to make sure that the card cleared the computer. "Ok," he said, returning the card to Quinn. "Next?"

Quinn picked up her tray, searching for a table. Just as she was about to sit down at an empty table, she noticed a familiar face at the far end of the cafeteria. Making her way through the crowded room, she tapped him on the shoulder, startling him.

He looked up in surprise, staring at her for a moment. "Quinn?"

"Hi Justin. Is there room for me?"

"Of course Quinn, pull up a seat."

Quinn sat down, pushing her bag off into the corner. As she did, she missed the look of pleasant surprise that flashed across Justin's face. "I didn't expect to find you here," she said, taking a bite of her salad.

"Well, I was hungry, and this seemed like the best option."

Quinn looked up, staring blankly at Justin.

"Oh, Ok, it was an option."

"Better." Quinn laughed slightly. "Call me old-fashioned, but salad should not be shrink-wrapped."

"True, true. But it's still better than the burgers."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Well," Justin began, "I had some friends in high school who were really into the ultimate fast food restaurant. Some claimed that frying was the only way to make a burger, others that flame broiling was the way to go."

Justin paused a moment, taking a bite of his sandwich. "They all agreed, however, that hamburgers should not be poached."

Quinn smiled, taking another bite of her salad as she thought. "Did you ever think that, like, maybe they LIKE the food bad? To, like, give us something to complain about?"

"Nah," Justin said. "I just think they're cheap."

"Oh." Hesitating a moment, Quinn looked up at Justin. "You know, it's a really nice day outside."

"I know," Justin replied, finishing his meal. "Almost makes you forget that you're still in school."

"And then, out of nowhere, chemistry lecture."

"Are you saying that you don't like chemistry lectures," Justin teased.

Crap, Quinn thought_. Now how do I get out of this one?_ She shook her head, thinking a moment. "It's, um, Ok, I guess. He just goes so fast. I mean, if it wasn't for your help, I'd be failing already."

"You don't give yourself enough credit Quinn," Justin said, patting her gently on the arm. "Your better at this stuff than you think."

"Um, thanks?"

"Just don't be too intimidated by the professor. He's not moving all that fast … "

"Justin? Is there anything that we've covered that you didn't already know?"

"Um, no?"

"Then you're probably not the best person to be deciding what 'too fast' is."

"Touché Quinn."

Quinn smiled, finishing up her salad. As much as she complained, she was actually beginning to catch on in chemistry, a fact that she attributed more to Justin than her professor.

"Hey, how about we go get away from all this hustle," Justin said, gesturing at the crowd. "Just you, me, and the rest of the chemistry class, in a little dark room across campus. What do you say?"

It was all Quinn could do to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Now how could I turn down such a romantic offer," Quinn managed.

Justin looked at Quinn uncertainly. _Turnabout is fair play_, Quinn thought. _Or was that foreplay_, she wondered in the deep recesses of her mind as the two headed off for class.

#

Back in her room, Quinn sat at her desk, checking her E-mail. "Nothing," she said, as she minimized her E-mail program, launching a web browser. As she checked the weather forecast, a thought nagged at her. _I'm supposed to do something_. After a moment of contemplation, she rummaged through her bag briefly, extracting a slip of paper. Picking up the phone, she dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Roger? It's Quinn."

"Oh," he said, excited. "Hi Quinn. How are you?"

"Much better, now that the weekend is here. How about you?"

"Great, since you called."

"Flatterer."

"You want me to stop?"

"Not on your life!"

Roger chuckled. "You're certainly an interesting one Quinn."

"Um, Ok …" Quinn hesitated for a moment before speaking. "So, about Saturday, um …"

"Do you like Fridays?"

"Fridays? Um, I guess they're one of the better days of the week."

"No, no," Roger said in amusement. "Not the day, the restaurant."

On the other end of the phone, Quinn sank back into her chair, glad that Roger was unable to see her embarrassment. Closing her eyes for a minute, she scowled at the wall. "Yeah, Fridays would be Ok," she admitted sheepishly.

"Ok," Roger said, "if we get there at 5:30, we should be able to catch the 7 o'clock movie runs. Does that work for you?"

"Um, yeah. What movie?"

"I thought we'd see when we got there. Unless there's something you'd particularly like to see, that is."

"No, I don't think so. Do you want to drop by my room at quarter after?"

"Only if you tell me where it is first."

"High rise, room 6533."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

As Roger hung up the phone, Quinn remained seated, staring at the receiver. For Quinn, dating had always followed the same pattern. The boys offered dates, called her, and generally did their best to plan everything to give Quinn the perfect night. Or at least what they thought the perfect night should be, but without the sex.

Roger, however, was different. He was much more laid back than anyone Quinn had ever dated. He wasn't putting her on a pedestal, but rather talking to her as if she were, well, a person. This did not bother Quinn by any means, but it was just so different than anything Quinn was used to, she wasn't certain what to do. This was a feeling that seemed all too familiar to Quinn as of late.

A knock at the door disturbed Quinn's introspection, causing her to hang up the phone in surprise. "Come in!"

At Quinn's invitation, Marisa opened her door, entering the room. "Hey Quinn, you busy?"

"Not really," Quinn said.

"Well, a bunch of us were going to head out to a party tonight. You interested?"

"Sure," Quinn replied. "Which frat?"

"Um," Marissa said, uncertain, "They haven't, uh, figured that out yet."

Quinn looked at Marisa uncertainly. "So … how do we find the party?"

"I think they're just going to wander around until they find something."

"Just how many is they," Quinn asked suspiciously.

"Um, maybe fifteen?"

Well, at least I won't look like an idiot alone, Quinn thought. "Drop by before you head out?"

"Sure thing Quinn. See you then."

#

Later that night, a group of students assembled outside the building, talking to each other under the pale yellow glow of the sodium streetlight. The building door opened as Quinn and Marisa exited, joining up with the group. Turning to Marisa, Quinn asked a question. "Do you know any of these people?"

"A few," Marisa said, looking over the crowd. "They're just, well, people I have classes with and stuff."

"Are we, like, waiting for something?"

"I don't know … I'm sure we'll head out soon."

"Hey, I don't think we've met. I'm Mary," said a girl, coming up to the two.

"Um, I'm Marisa."

"Quinn." Quinn looked around for an instant. "Do you know where we're going?"

The girl cocked her head slightly, thinking. "I think we were going to try Alpha Beta first."

"Alpha Beta?"

"Down on East Street."

"Is that the one with the statue in the front lawn," Marisa asked.

"That's the one." Mary glanced back at the crowd. "Well, I think we're heading out."

"How can you tell?"

Mary gestured at the crowd. "They're actually moving. That's not something to let go to waste."

Mary headed back into the crowd, speaking briefly with a few people before making her way to the head of the crowd, leading them on their way.

#

Inside the Alpha-Beta frat house, Quinn and Marisa stood at the edge of the room. Smoke from cigarettes, cigars, and a variety of more interesting substances mingled in the stuffy air, fighting a pitched battle with the odor of stale beer permeating the whole house.

Against the wall near Quinn and Marisa, a male student set down his beer, turning to his friend. "So how did you like the game last night?"

"Oh, the game was great. I think Angie's mad at me though."

"Why?"

"Well, she kept coming in and wanting to, like, talk about our relationship and where it was going."

"During the game?"

"Yeah, can you believe it? Then she asked if the game was more important to me than she was."

"Oh, man, that's a low blow."

"Tell me about it." He thought for an inebriated moment. "I don't think 'yes' was the answer she was looking for."

Quinn and Marisa looked at the two students in disgust, and then back at each other as the loud music from the over-driven speakers switched to a new song. As they shook their heads, a lone student approached the two. "You're from the high rise, right?"

Quinn and Marisa looked at the newcomer for a moment. "Yeah," Quinn responded.

"I'm Jessica. So, what do you think of the party?"

Quinn thought a moment before saying anything. "It, um, it's very …"

"It sucks," Marisa interjected.

Quinn turned to Marisa, concerned, but before she could say anything Jessica's laughter interrupted her train of thought. "Yeah, it does suck," Jessica observed. "But the beer's free, and they aren't particularly interested in checking ID's."

"But it, like, smells. And the music is WAY to loud to dance to."

"Hey, it's Alpha-Beta."

Noticing someone in the crowd, the girl headed across the room, leaving Quinn and Marisa alone again. Sighing, Quinn looked to Marisa, half-shouting to make herself heard over the music. "It does suck, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"You want to look for someplace else?"

"Someplace else? Sure," Marisa shouted. "Should we tell the others?"

"Do you know where they are? Could you find them here?"

"No."

" Then I wouldn't worry about it."

Making her way through the crowd, Quinn pushed her way to the door, stepping outside onto the front lawn. Marisa followed, coming up to Quinn as she took a deep breath. "Ick, it's going to be, like, impossible to get the smell out of these clothes," Quinn mused.

"Just wash them, and it should be fine."

"Really?"

"Beats me."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anytime. Unless I'm asleep. Or in the shower. Or with a really cute guy. Or in the shower with a really cute guy…."

Quinn shook her head. "Why am I friends with you?"

"Because I'm friendly, I'm nice, and gosh darn it, people like me."

Quinn laughed, in spite of herself. "Come on. There's GOT to be a better party somewhere around here…"

#

Heading down a side road away from Alpha Beta, Quinn and Marisa were walking when the streetlight abruptly went out. _I really wish they'd stop doing that_, Quinn thought, continuing on her way.

"That's kind of creepy," Marisa said.

"Actually," Quinn said, "I screamed the first time it happened."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But the thing like, came back on a few seconds later. I wasn't sure if I should be scared or embarrassed."

"I just never really liked walking in the dark. My brother loved to tell creepy stories to frighten me." Marisa said, looking around in the dark. "So, of course, he'd hide later that night and jump out on me."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, but what could I do? He was bigger than me, and had enough … did you hear that?"

"What?"

"It was … there it is again!"

Listening carefully, Quinn was about to dismiss Marisa as merely paranoid when she heard a rustling in the bushes behind her. Turning slowly, she stared at the bushes for a moment as her heart raced. Suddenly, a loud noise startled her, causing her to take a step backwards.

"Some shortcut," a male voice said, as he emerged from the bushes.

"Hey, its not my fault that you got lost," a female voice answered.

As Quinn watched, her fright replaced by curiosity, someone emerged from the bushes, only to be blinded momentarily as the streetlight came back on.

Marisa walked in front of Quinn, staring at the new arrival. "Dave?"

"Huh," he said, looking around in surprise. Noticing the two girls, he studied them for a moment. "Um, Marisa? And Quinn?"

"Hi Dave," Marisa replied as Quinn looked at him curiously. As the three stood there, Amber emerged from the bushes, brushing herself off.

"Quinn? Marisa? What are you doing here?"

"Well," Quinn said, "a bunch of people from our dorm decided to go look for a party tonight, and we ended up at, uh …"

"Alpha-Beta," Marisa offered.

"Yeah, Alpha-Beta."

"Oh gee, I'm sorry," Dave offered. "They're, well, let's just say that it's a good thing that alcohol doubles as a disinfectant."

"Too bad it doesn't do something about the smell," Quinn said.

"Oh, it does," Amber said. "It just doesn't **improve** it."

Quinn smiled. "So what were you two doing in the bushes?" Thinking for a moment, Quinn shot Amber a sly smile. "Anything interesting?"

Amber looked at Dave for a moment, laughing slightly. "As if. No, we were heading to a party when Dave here decided to cut through that path. Of course, just as we started, the damn lights cut out on us."

"Does anyone know why they do that," Marisa asked.

Dave shrugged. "Well, the design of illumination systems is a complicated balance, and given the heat output of a conventional sodium lamp…"

"He doesn't know," Amber interrupted.

"So, um, where were you two going?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, they've got something going on over at Tau Kappa Epsilon. They usually throw a decent party. Keep out the rabble, so to speak."

"So how do we get in then," Dave asked.

"I'll just use my natural charm," Amber said.

"We're doomed," Dave replied sarcastically.

"Go to hell Dave," Amber said, heading down the street. Exchanging a look, Dave, Marisa, and Quinn smiled slightly as they turned to follow Amber.

#

Amber, Dave, Marisa, and Quinn walked through the white fence, taking their place in the line of students waiting to enter. As they waited, Amber looked around, smiling.

"I just love the night! It's so beautiful out!" She turned to the other three. "You can keep your mornings, thank you very much."

Quinn turned to Dave. "Is she OK?"

"Her? Sure. She's just a night person."

"So I've noticed."

As Quinn and Dave continued their discussion, they reached the front of the line. As the people ahead of them entered the house, the brother at the door turned his attention to Quinn.

"ID please," he asked.

As Amber and Dave exchanged a worried look, Quinn acted without thinking, removing her wallet and handing over her student ID. The bouncer at the door examined it for a second before waving her in. "Nice picture."

"Um, thanks," Quinn said, entering the house.

Inside the house was a much different scene than earlier. People were gathered, talking and drinking all along the main hallway as music filtered in from the adjoining room. Quinn moved down the hall a little, peering into the room from whence the music arose.

Quinn watched for a moment, looking into the darkened room at the people dancing. As someone started a strobe light, Quinn stood, entranced by the dancing students, frozen in time by the strobe. As she watched, Dave came up silently behind her.

"Hey Quinn"

"Aah," she shouted, turning with a start. "Don't do that!"

"Aw, you're no fun," he said as Amber and Marisa joined the two.

"Nicely done Quinn," Amber said. "How did you know that they'd take a student ID?"

Quinn looked at Amber sheepishly. "Um, I didn't." Watching their confused faces, she explained. "Every time you need to do something around here, they, like, need your ID card. So when I heard him, I just, um, gave it to him…"

"Well, whatever it was, it worked."

"Yeah, and its much better than Alpha-Beta," Marisa said, looking over Quinn's shoulder into the room. "Cool, dancing! Let's go!"

Quinn and Amber started to follow Marisa, leaving Dave standing at the doorway. Marisa noticed this, walking back to him. "Come on Dave!"

"No, you go ahead."

Marisa gave him a stern look as she tried to fight back a laugh. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"No it won't. I can't dance."

"Sure you can. If I can, anyone can. Come on," she said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him behind her into the room.

On the dance floor, the four made their way towards the center of the floor. Quinn and Amber began to dance enthusiastically, scanning the crowd as they did so. At the same time, Marisa was dancing with Dave, poking him occasionally to keep him moving.

Quinn danced in the dark for a while, feeling herself relax and simply move with the beat. After a few minutes, she watched as a well-dressed man made his way over to her. Watching her for a second, he began to match her movements, the harmony to Quinn's melody.

Picking up on this, Quinn returned the favor, matching his moves while keeping a safe distance. As the song came to an end, a smiling Quinn turned, straining to listen.

"What? I can't hear you!"

"Can I buy you a drink," he asked again, in a louder voice.

"Um, sure."

Quinn's newfound dance partner led the way as they made their way off the dance floor. Quinn was having fun, although she was a bit nervous as well. Quinn was no stranger to parties, but she had never been a big drinker. Quinn, like her mother, was a bit of a control freak, and rarely had enough alcohol to affect her.

But Quinn also wanted to fit in, and it WAS a frat party, after all. _One drink can't hurt anything_, she thought as they approached the bar.

"Well, now that you can actually hear me, I'm Brian."

"I'm Quinn. You dance pretty well, for a guy."

"Yeah, well, you've gotta let loose sometimes. What's the point of it all if you can't have a little fun now and then? Hey," he said, gesturing at the bar, "what can I get you?"

"I don't know. Something sweet?"

"I know just the thing. I'll be right back."

As Brian got the bartender's attention, Quinn looked around again. All about the room, people were spread about, talking, drinking, and generally just having a good time. A couple here, a small group there, in the corner, a game of darts.

"Here you go, give this a try," Brian said, returning from the bar.

Quinn took the glass from Brian, taking a small sip. "Wow, this is pretty good."

"Fuzzy Navel."

"What?" Quinn looked down at her stomach, realizing that her shirt was draped over her pants, covering her entire stomach.

"The drink. It's a fuzzy navel."

"It's very … peachy," Quinn said, taking another sip.

"That would be the point, yes."

Quinn looked at him for a moment as she took another drink from her glass. Looking in his hand, she saw a glass filled with a dark, nearly opaque liquid. "What's that," she asked.

Brian looked down at his glass. "That is the singular best beer at this party, Guinness," he said proudly.

Quinn smiled, despite the fact that she was not a beer connoisseur, and probably wouldn't have known that Guinness was a beer had he not mentioned it first.

At the far end of the bar, Dave got the attention of the bartender, handing over a ten-dollar bill and taking two glasses. Moving away from the bar, he handed one of the glasses to Marisa, who accepted happily.

"Don't tell me that you're tired of dancing already," she teased.

"I just thought I'd give somebody else a chance to make a fool of themselves for a while."

"You worry too much. Between the darkness, music, and the number of people, it'd be a miracle if people even recognized you. Just relax and have fun."

Dave took a drink from his glass, smiling at Marisa. "There's more than one way to have fun you know."

Marisa looked down the bar, noticing Quinn flirting with some guy. She looked back at Dave. "So I've heard."

#

The next morning, Quinn awoke on top of her bed, still dressed in her clothes from the night before. Standing up, Quinn rubbed her eyes, looking around for a moment. _Thank God its Saturday_, she thought as she gathered her things, getting ready for a shower. Reaching under her bed, she pulled out a bottle of water, taking a drink to alleviate the dry taste in her mouth.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Quinn stared at the wall for a moment. Remembering the night before, Quinn couldn't help but realize how different some things were. There were no parents, no one to question you if you got in at 3AM, smelling of smoke and alcohol. She shook her head.

Quinn wasn't even comfortable with kissing on a first date, much less 'stopping off for a nightcap', as Brian had suggested. Thankfully, he wasn't too disappointed at Quinn's refusal, but Quinn decided that she would have to be more careful in the future. The stakes were just too high.

Picking up her towel, robe, and toiletries kit, Quinn opened her door. As she headed down the hallway, a creak emanated from behind her. Turning in curiosity, she watched as the door to Marisa's room opened slowly, and Dave emerged. Stifling an astonished giggle, she slipped around the corner and into the bathroom before he could see her.

Marisa, Quinn thought as she walked over to the shower, _you have some explaining to do._

#

Later that morning, Quinn and Marisa sat at a table in the dining hall. Quinn picked up her toasted bagel, covered in low-fat cream cheese. She stared at it for a moment before taking a bite. Swallowing, she looked over at Marisa.

"Hey, I didn't catch up with you after the party. Did you have a good time?"

"Um, yeah. It was … fun," Marisa replied uncertainly.

"I hope your roommate didn't wake you early again," Quinn said innocently.

"She's, um, out of town for the weekend."

"So, what did you do? I saw you on the dance floor with Dave, but, well, I kind of lost track of you after that…"

"Well," Marisa said, somewhat nervous, "I danced for a while, had a few drinks…"

"And then?"

Marisa looked up from her cereal, her eyes searching Quinn's face for some clue. _Does she know something_, Marisa thought with no small amount of concern. Even as she fought it, a wave of worry washed over her.

Thankfully, Quinn let her off the hook. "I saw Dave leave your room this morning," she admitted.

"Oh." Marisa looked worried, turning her gaze down upon the table. "Um …"

"Don't worry Marisa, it's Ok." Quinn smiled at her friend.

"You don't think that I'm, um, a slut?"

Quinn laughed. "Marisa, in high school, my friends used men like they were Kleenex." _Not that I was any better, _ she thought sourly. "It'll take a lot more than this to make me think that."

"Um, thanks."

Looking at Marisa, Quinn continued. "So, um, what happened?"

"Well," Marisa began nervously, "after we had danced for a while, we got a few beers and talked for a while. He's really pretty interesting, once you get to know him."

"And?"

"Well, we talked, danced some more, and he offered to walk me home. Well, one thing led to another…"

"There's got to be more to it than that," Quinn interrupted.

Marisa smiled slyly at Quinn. "Yes, there is."

Shaking her head, Quinn teased Marisa. "At least tell me if he was any good."

"Quinn!"

Payback, Quinn thought, laughing at Marisa's indignation. "Is that a no?"

#

Later that afternoon, Quinn entered the lounge, followed closely by Justin. As Quinn set down her notebook and took out a pencil, Justin pulled out a sheet of paper from inside his chemistry text, setting it down on the table.

"I can't believe that you printed out the homework already," Quinn said, sitting down next to Justin.

"Well Quinn, it's gotta get done sometime."

"Justin, it's Saturday."

Justin shrugged. "It's not like I'm forcing you to work on it."

"Well, it's just, um, easier to work on it with you. You actually, um, know what you're doing…"

Justin smiled at Quinn. "I am most honored, m'lady," he said in a chuckle.

"Of course, it'll take you what, twenty minutes to finish?"

"With or without you?"

Quinn looked over at Justin in surprise. "Hey!"

"Oh, relax Quinn. It was a joke."

"Whatever." Quinn looked at Justin, thinking for a minute. "I don't slow you down too much, do I?" _And would you tell me if I did?_

Looking at her reassuringly, Justin answered. "Don't worry Quinn. You do slow me down some, but trying to explain it to you actually makes me go back and think about it." He shrugged. "And if I know it well enough to explain it to someone, then I guess that means I really know it, right?"

Quinn forced her face into a slight scowl. "So I'm just a study aid?"

"Damn right," Justin said flippantly. "Admittedly, a rather cute one," he added with a smile.

Blushing, Quinn opened her book, reading as a small smile spread across her face.

#

Twelve problems complete. _Not a bad start at all_, Quinn thought as she looked up at the lounge clock. 4:30. "Um, I've got to, uh, get going…"

"Ok," Justin replied, looking up at the clock. "Isn't it a bit early for dinner?"

"Um, yeah. I've, uh … got a date," Quinn said, almost apologetically.

"Oh." Justin paused for a moment. "Cool. Have a good time."

Quinn looked at him briefly, slightly confused. "Um, thanks," she said, heading back to her room, leaving Justin alone in the lounge.

Justin looked up at the clock, shaking his head. "I was done two hours ago," he said softly.

#

Quinn opened her closet, trying to choose an outfit for her date. _Why did I think he would react differently_, she wondered to herself as she removed a dark blue blouse. Holding it up in front of her mirror, she looked for a second before setting it back in her closet.

"Not that," she said to herself. "With these jeans, I'd look like a walking bruise. And that look is like sooo last year," she mused, rummaging through her closet. After a brief search, she found a suitable combination, a gentle teal t-shirt to go with her jeans. Laying it on her bed, she headed off for the shower.

#

Returning from her quick shower, Quinn began to get dressed. Pulling on her clothes, she checked herself in the mirror as she ran a brush through her short hair. Just about right for a first date, she thought to herself. Not too much, and not too little. Thinking for a second, she opened her top drawer, remembering a particularly unpleasant conversation with her mother.

"Quinn, could I talk to you for a second," Helen had said.

"Um, sure," a nervous Quinn replied, uncertain about what she had done wrong.

"Now Quinn, with you, um, going away to college and all, and knowing how you like to date, I just wanted to talk about … protection."

She had been aghast. "Mo-om! You're not going to talk about sex again, are you?"

Helen looked somewhat embarrassed. "Um, no Quinn. I just wanted to, um, here," she said, handing a small box over to Quinn.

Back in the room, Quinn looked down into her drawer, picking up a small canister of Mace. _Protection indeed_, she thought. Quinn had attributed it to Helen's overactive imagination, an overreaction, albeit a harmless one. _Maybe_, she thought, going over the past few days, _maybe she had a point…_

A knock at the door startled Quinn. Dropping the canister into her pocket, she walked over to the door. Peeking through the peephole, she saw Roger standing, waiting politely. Smiling, Quinn opened the door. "You're early."

"Yeah, sorry," he said. Raising his right hand from behind his back, he handed Quinn a single red rose. "For you, Quinn."

"Oh thanks Roger," Quinn said, taking the flower from him and smelling it for a moment. "That's SO nice of you!" Setting the flower on her desk, she grabbed her wallet and keys before heading out the door.

#

Inside the restaurant, Quinn and Roger were seated in a booth, enjoying their meals. Looking up from her salad as a waitress walked by, Quinn scanned the walls. "What's with all the stuff on the walls?"

"It's to provide atmosphere. Make the dining experience more fun and all."

"Oh," Quinn said, looking around.

"So, um, do you have a major yet?"

"Everyone keeps asking that," Quinn replied, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Hey, sorry. I was just curious," he offered. "Would you prefer if I talked about the weather instead?"

Quinn turned to him, looking a little guilty. "Sorry. No, I don't have a major. Do you?"

"I'm still working on it, although I think I'll go for biochemistry. Or possibly genetics."

"Why?"

"Well, I kind of like it, and I'm not too bad at it. Plus, I can go into Pharmaceutical research."

"Huh?"

Roger smiled across the table. "I get to be a drug dealer."

"Oh." Quinn thought about this for a second.

"So what are you interested in?"

"Me," Quinn asked. "Um, I'm not sure. I guess economics is kind of interesting, but, um, I don't like the professor very much."

"Fair enough."

"I don't know, it's just, um, kind of interesting here. It's like, so much different than high school."

"Working without a net."

"Huh? I don't get it."

Roger smiled at her. "Well, there are no parents around, no one to enforce anything."

Quinn returned the smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean. My parents would, like, freak if they knew about the frat parties."

"Tell me about it. My parents are a bit … strict. They don't want me to have women in my room."

"What?"

Roger sighed. "My mother doesn't think that it's appropriate for me to have women in my room. She has this crazy notion that if women end up in my room, I'd end up having sex."

Quinn thought about this, not quite sure what to say. Bracing herself, she asked. "Um, would you?"

"Naw, I'm not that lucky."

Quinn wasn't sure if that was a good answer or not. "So, do you listen to them? Your parents, I mean?"

"Nope. I got caller ID."

Quinn laughed a little, relaxing and talking with Roger as they both finished their meals. Surprisingly, she was having a pretty good time. The restaurant wasn't ritzy, and compared to Quinn's extensive dating experience, Roger was spending far less than anyone in Lawndale would have dared. But despite all that, Quinn found she was genuinely enjoying herself, for reasons she couldn't quite understand.

#

After dinner, Quinn and Roger entered the movie theatre, making their way through a crowd of students to stand in front of the ticket window.

"So, anything you're interested in seeing?"

Quinn looked up above the ticket window, scanning over the movie titles. "Is there anything you wanted to see," she asked, turning back to face him.

Roger looked up for a moment. "Hmmm… Have you seen 'Crouching Groucho, Hidden Punchline'?"

"No." Quinn thought for a moment. "What's it about?"

Roger shrugged. "You know, I don't know. My friends seemed to like it though, but they 'didn't want to spoil it' for me, or something."

"Oh. I guess that would be fine."

Roger looked up again. "There doesn't seem to be much else on, at least not much that I'd want to see." Roger looked down, to Quinn. "Funny, but I seem to remember movies being better when I was younger."

Quinn thought for a second, remembering her high school experiences. _How many of those movies did I remember_, she wondered silently? While Quinn had been on more dates than most of her classmates could count, try as she may, she just couldn't remember many details at all. She remembered taking notes, evaluating her suitors with a single-minded objectiveness that would make the IRS jealous. She could remember the cars they drove, how much should be spent on a 'good' date, even the appropriate phone etiquette for asking her out, but for the life of her she couldn't actually remember what she had done.

And I'm annoyed at guys treating ME like a sex object?

"Quinn?"

Quinn shook her head. "Sorry."

"So, any thoughts about the movie?"

"Um, the Crouching one sounds Ok."

"Cool. I'll get tickets."

As Roger moved into the short line, Quinn watched in silence. _Would I have even given him a chance in high school_, she thought guiltily? _Sure. I would have evaluated him against my other prospective dates to ensure the best possible experience for me._

Roger came up quietly next to Quinn. "Shall we enter?"

"Um, sure."

"After you," Roger said, walking just behind Quinn past the ticket counter and into the theatre.

#

Outside Quinn's dorm, Quinn and Roger stood just off the path, outside of the direct light. Roger took Quinn's hand gently, looking into her eyes. "I, um, had a nice time tonight."

"Yeah, it was fun," Quinn said, thinking about the night. _Please don't ask for more_, Quinn thought.

"So, would you want to do it again sometime?"

Quinn smiled at him. "Roger, are you asking me for another date?"

"Maybe. Are you saying yes?"

"Maybe. I couldn't say yes unless you asked, though."

"So, if I were to ask, would you say yes?"

Quinn cocked her head at Roger. "Maybe."

Roger laughed briefly before lifting her hand to give it a gentle kiss. "Good night Quinn."

"Good night."

Quinn watched for a moment as Roger headed off towards his own dorm. _I don't deserve him, _she thought before turning and entering her dorm. She slowly made her way to the top of the staircase. Quinn was about to head back to her room when something caught the corner of her eye. Moving cautiously to the lounge, Quinn peeked in to see Justin sitting on the couch, reading a book.

"Justin?"

Justin looked up at Quinn, placing his book on the table. "Oh, hey Quinn."

"Hi."

"So, how'd the big date go?"

"Oh, um, pretty well. The movie wasn't bad, even if the ending was pretty weird."

"Well, that's good I guess."

"Yeah." Quinn looked around the lounge. "Did you, like, get tired of your room?"

"Naw," Justin replied. "Victor's girlfriend from high school is up for the weekend."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yep. They're doing the whole long distance thing. The least I could do was give them a little time alone."

"But what if they…"

Justin waved his hand, looking straight at Quinn. "Don't say that. He's my roommate. I don't want to think about that. Please."

"Um, Ok. Sorry."

Quinn and Justin stood for an awkward moment before Quinn spoke up. "I should probably get back to my room," she said.

"Oh. Ok," Justin replied. "If you get the urge to do any work tonight, feel free to come up and join me."

"Um, Ok," Quinn said, turning to head back to her room. Walking around the corner, Quinn missed Justin, gazing at the doorway Quinn had been standing in, a slight hint of sorrow on his face.

Entering her room, Quinn picked up the rose from the desk, taking a seat on her bed. Smelling the rose, Quinn laid back on her bed, thinking. Quinn had been told that college was a clean slate, a chance to start again. No one would know Quinn, the ultra-popular fashion-obsessed dating machine. Nor would they know Quinn, friend of Sandi, the elitist snob.

No, they would only know the Quinn that she showed them, the Quinn she felt she should be. So why was it, she wondered, that she now had a major crush on one boy and was dating another?

Sighing, she sat up. Suddenly, Daria and Tom's checkered relationship made a lot more sense to her. You do something, anything, for long enough, and it becomes a part of you. Comfortable, safe. _Change is hard_, she thought, standing up and placing the rose back on the desk, getting ready for bed.

#

The next morning, Quinn and Marisa were sitting a table, working on their breakfast. Quinn lifted a bagel, taking a bite as Marisa looked over at her. "So, did you have fun last night?"

"Not as much fun as you did with Dave."

"Hey now!"

Quinn shrugged. "It went pretty well. He seems to be, like a pretty nice guy."

"I see," Marisa said slyly. "And how did Justin take it?"

"What?"

"You did tell him, didn't you?"

"Um, yes."

"Well, what did he say?"

"Uh, he wished me good luck?"

Marisa smiled at Quinn. "You don't sound too happy about that."

"Well, um …" Quinn stammered uncertainly.

Smirking, Marisa shook her head at an uncomfortable Quinn. _Ain't payback grand?_


End file.
